Blue Moon
by Licensetocreep
Summary: Moon Called Part1: The Winchester brothers are hot on the trail of another werewolf, and meet a female hunter on a similar mission. They soon realize that nothing is as it seems in SmallTown, Wisconsin...especially Jesse Warner. Deancentric romance
1. Dreams of Death Danced In My Head

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Supernatural, or any of the characters from that show. If I did, I would not be here, but in my LA mansion power out another amazing episode. Alas, the only thing I own in this bit of fanfiction is Jesse Warner. Songs used are 3 Doors Down- I Feel You, Seether- The Gift, and Ozzy Osbourne- Bark At The Moon.

**Blue Moon**

Chapter One: Dreams of Death Danced In My Head

_Another endless day, another seven hundred miles that'll take me further from my home…_

"What, is the thing homesick?" I asked, taking Exit 10 into Smalltown, Wisconsin.

"I don't know Dean, I'm just telling you the facts."

"Well give me a fact the explains why a werewolf slaughters his way back to this town in the middle of EastBumfuck?"

"Um, well, maybe there's something he wants, something he left behind."

"Or someone" I added.

"We'll find out soon enough," my little brother replied, looking off into the fields of nothing as Ozzy's Bark At The Moon flooded my Impala

"Yeah, Sam, we will."

_I can't face myself when I wake up  
And look inside a mirror  
I'm so ashamed of that thing..._

I shot up of from my dream, caked in sweat, breathing as if I had ran a marathon, and feeling a heady mixture of fear and desire. What had woken me, I didn't know, but I was eternally grateful.

I squinted my now ice blue eyes shut and massaged my skull, willing the images to leave my brain. Meat, blood, ripping, tearing, screaming.

They didn't leave. Damn them.

I flung my body out of bed with all its supernatural speed, rushing to unlock the draw of my nightstand. In seconds I had my prize, and quickly popped the cap and injected my morning medicine into my brachial artery. My breathing slowed and my heartbeat stabilized as I stood before my wardrobe.

The mirror revealed that my eyes were once again their normal color, a silvery gray. Ok, not exactly normal, but their natural hue anyway. It also exposed that a cat had apparently slept on my auburn locks, which when not tangled to all forms of hell, happen to flow down to my back.

Resolved to eat breakfast, I disposed of the needle in the trashcan by the bed. I pulled on a pair of jeans over black panties, managed to clasp a matching bra AND brush out my mahogany hair to some semblance of decent, when there was a banging on the door.

Not a knocking, an honest to God Big Bad Wolf I'm Going To Blow The Door Down BANG.

I could smell them, two. Men by the smell of the Axe, or hardcore lesbians. Who the fuck was at my house at...noon? OK, not entirely early...and there was that goddamn banging AGAIN.

I threw on deodorant and a quick spritz of Vanilla before sprinting down the ancient staircase to the solid oak door. The bra hid more than most bathing suits, it was good enough for me and whoever was trying to smash my door into tiny bits.

This had better be good; otherwise someone was about to get a serious verbal beat down.

_They gave me a life that's not so easy to live  
And then they sent me on my way_

I followed Sam up the stone walkway to the door of a Victorian house, similar to every other place in the suburbs. Only difference was this one held our key witness.

'Detective' Sam rang the bell, his usual calm and innocent self. I wish I could say the same...wait, no I don't.

My brother frowned at me as I yawned. I flipped him off. It was way too early to be awake, let alone questioning witnesses.

And damned if I was gonna stand on a doorstep all day waiting for her.

Rushing past my little brother, I knocked on the door. Hard. And Loud. Twice.

The door creaked open to reveal a gorgeous redhead dressed in skin-tight jeans that left nothing to the imagination and a black satin bra. Well, my morning was looking up.

_I'm so ashamed of the lie I'm living_

Ok, I just deduced that it was in fact not people at my door.

It was Titans.

You know, the mythical giants. The fact that I'm only 5'4" has nothing to do with it, honest. The two had to be at least 6'3". The pictures did NOT specify this. Or their excessive hotness.

Yes, I knew who they were. What hunter doesn't know the Winchester brothers?

"Je..Jesse Warner?" the younger of the two asked, stumbling over his speech.

I could smell his lust, but it was crippled by his own chivalry, which helped matters for me.

"The one and only. And who might you two be?"

"We're detectives Miss. Warner," Dean began, "We'd like to ask you a few questions. May we come in?"

His speech was certain, but his heart raced and his lust burnt me like molten fire. His extreme attractiveness didn't help much either, nor the Axe.

The commercials are 100 truth, it is kryptonite to all things estrogen.

"Sure thing," I replied, stepping aside to let them in before shutting the door behind them.

I really did not want them in here.

I really did not want to jump Dean, especially in front of his little brother. But if I declined, they'd suspect me even more.

Then again, if they found my meds, or the safe room, I was as good as dead anyway. God must hate me this morning, er, afternoon. Had to be why he made a blue moon this month. I cursed him under my breath. Fucking commie bastard.

Yes, I was making it official. Jesus is a nazi.

"Do you guys want some coffee? I was about to put on a pot."

So much for eating breakfast. Don't ask me why, but unless its planned, I don't eat when there's company. I hate when people watch me eat. It makes feel like a glutton, and then I can't eat, and I starve until they leave.

Dean nodded, and Sam declined.

I disappeared into the kitchen, flipping on the coffee machine. It looked like space-age technology, one of very few bits of evidence spread through my house that proved my wealth.

I tried to keep my hormones in check by concentrating on this task. Find coffee, get mugs, have sex with Dean Winchester...hey, wait a sec.

It would have actually been better for me. The beast always wants two things, food or sex, sometimes both. If it gets one, its thirst for the other is, if only temporarily, satisfied. Problem was I couldn't sleep around in town without getting a bad rep.

Oh pride, thy sword cuts me.

I grabbed a bag of Columbian Select Hazelnut Roast and asked, loudly enough for them to hear easily,

"So, what brings the infamous Winchester brothers to my living room?"

Sticking my head out to the living room, the looks on their faces were instantly priceless, before adding, "Hunting werewolves perhaps?", and disappeared into the kitchen once more.

The look on Dean's handsome face almost drove me over the edge. Fuck Fuck Fuck, fuck Dean.

No! Bad beasty, down girl.

Concentrate! Empty bag, pour contents into drip. Add water. Get another shot. No AgNO3 this time, just straight up and wonderful Ativan. Unlock draw, get syringe, inject.

Oh sweet relief.

_And what do I have to get me through these sleepless nights?_

I raised an eyebrow at Sam, his eyes wide with shock. Hey, he had an expression. I didn't know he had it in him.

"And how do you know our names again?" I asked.

"Internet," she called back from the kitchen, "You guys really aren't that hard to find."

Well, that was reassuring.

"So...you're a hunter then?" Sam asked.

No, she's a god damn journalist?! Hey, you gotta admit, it was a stupid question. It was not because I've hadn't had my coffee this morning.

The gorgeous woman walking towards me didn't leave me annoyed for long, fortunately for Sam. Her smooth pale shoulders shrugged as she sat on the couch across from us.

"I suppose so. I've been chasing this guy for about a year, taking out anything else I run into along the way. Then all of a sudden the wacko decides to come back home."

Wacko. Nice choice of words. Only word I really caught actually. Her damned hand was fingering her navel ring, a dangling crescent moon. It was more distracting then a strip tease.

"So, you know the guy then? The werewolf I mean," Nice job there Dean, you moron. Just play cool, keep on the Listening Intently face.

_I don't belong here and I'm not well_

God why have you forsaken me?

I couldn't think, at all. At least in the kitchen I got some space, but here?! It was like I was burning alive. Putting on a shirt would help, but I was far too proud. It's a bitch, but it's who I am.

One hand wandered down to fumble with the silver bellybutton ring, the pain keeping me preoccupied. My eyes met Dean's, and I stopped. I was making him worse. Damnit. How much Ativan could I take before I passed out?

"Yeah, his names Eric Brown. We went out for a few months, till I broke it off. He starting stalking me, I started avoiding him. He killed my grandparents to cap it off."

"Nice guy," Dean quipped with a grin. I smiled back. Maybe the Ativan was kicking in.

"So, you were there the night it happened. Are you sure weren't bitten at all?" Sam asked, all business. Just like the gang had said.

"I think I would have noticed a werewolf trying to take a chunk out of me."

See, I wasn't lying. I was omitting. There is a difference. No wonder God makes my life a nightmare. Hey, it earned another chuckle from Dean. At least I could be a comedian in hell.

"Glad I could be so amusing," I said as the coffee machine announced its finite with an annoying bring.

I rose from my seat on the couch and retreated back into the kitchen. "Sugar or cream?" I hollered for the umpteenth time this afternoon.

"Black, please,"

Of course, manly man.

I plunked down two mugs, my favorites too. So, if he broke it, so help me! Plain black went into my "Surgeon Generals Warning: Talking To Me Before I've Had My First Cup Of Coffee Can Be Hazardous To Your Help." Two creams and three sugars went into my "Oh Its You, In That Case, Make It an IRISH Coffee," mug, complete with a little green shamrock.

I returned to the guys without taking another dose. Apparently it had finally kicked in; I was numb and content with that.

Dean took his coffee, getting a grin from its cup before taking a sip with a sigh.

"I can't tell you how long it's been since I've actually had real coffee."

I laughed, raising mine up in salute before resuming my seat and added "Cheers,"

"So, we've got a plan," Dean began.

Sam glanced at his brother, "We do?"

"Yeah. This thing has a connection with you," he continued, pointing to me, "So, I figure its come back into town to lure you here for some unfinished business. We'll stay here tonight, and kill the thing when he makes a move."

I nodded with a false smile. "Great,"

…Shit.

(thats all till Ch 2! Now go leave comments, I dont care if you love it or not, just have an opinion and state it!)


	2. Lock, Stock, and French

**Disclaimer:** I do NOT own Supernatural, nor any elements or characters from the show. If I did, I would just make this fanfic into an episode, profit, and ogle Jensen during the shoot . But alas, I only own Jesse Warner. Songs used in this installment were Seether- Hang On, 30 Seconds To Mars- Was It A Dream?, and AC/DC- Problem Child.

**Blue Moon**

Chapter 2: Lock, Stock, and French

_I hide behind the shell  
In time the pain will melt_

Locks. I needed to check the locks. Kitchen draw, nightstand, and the safe room. Now. The sensible part of my brain kept telling me to relax. They were still locked as always, just as the key was in my left back pocket. I am NOT paranoid. I'm simply cautious. Turning furry once a month for the past year will do that to ya.

"Well, apparently you two have some packing to do, so, I'm gonna shower and leave you guys to it," I began, a very COLD one, "Your welcome to anything in the fridge, pantry, whatever. Mi casa es su casa. Just follow my one house rule: If its locked, don't fuck with it."

"Well," Dean began, with his trademark 'I will melt you where you stand into a puddle of goo' drop dead sexy smile, "Sam can take my car and bring our stuff over. I'll stay here and keep an eye out, just in case furball rears his ugly head."

Damnit.

"Ok, well, make yourself at home then," I replied, smiling brightly before disappearing up stairs to my room, quickly locking the door behind me. I snatched the key on my nightstand, and threw its chain around my neck. I felt calmer, safer.

After grabbing a suitable outfit for today, I padded into the master bathroom, stripping off my clothes and stepping under the icy spray. The music switched itself on to my AC/DC CD as Problem Child surrounded me with the water.

"Thank you Danny," I spoke with a smile. I watched as the words "Any time" appeared in the fogged glass of the shower stall.

I swayed my hips to the beat and rinsed the shampoo from my hair, singing along with the song. Danny's laughter echoed off the tiles before he left me in peace.

_Your defenses were on high  
Your walls built deep inside_

Sam didn't take to the plan so well. But it all worked out in the end. We solved it the old-fashioned way. And this time, rock kicked his ass.

I was in her fridge, going through the assorted bottles of liquor, when I heard the sounds of a familiar rock song accompanied by running water.

A gorgeous woman with no inhibitions who loves drinking and rock n roll. I stared up at the off-white ceiling with a grin before adding, "Thank you God."

Grabbing a Sam Adams from the fridge, I headed upstairs to…get a look around. I couldn't help but laugh as I heard her voice carried from the acoustics of the shower. She was actually pretty good too.

_"Every night  
Street light  
Drinkin' booze  
Some run  
Some fight  
I win they lose"_

**  
**With another gulp of beer and I wandered into her bedroom, or the room of her secret lesbian roommate. Nah, that was just a fantasy. The shackles laid out on the bed however, were not. Not sissy little handcuffs, I'm talkin' full blown shackles. Lined with velvet, set out as if Jesse wanted these to be found.

Hey, nothin' wrong with a little kink every now and again. Or, you know, all the time.

It looked well made too, some sort of steel alloy. The key, however, was nowhere to be found…unless she took it with her.

_Wish I could fake it_

I was just beginning to dry off, when I could smell that familiar kryptonic scent that was Dean Winchester, snooping outside my bedroom.

Oh well, let him snoop. All the important stuff was hidden anyway. And no, my underwear draw does not count as important.

I almost jumped when I heard him knocking on the door. What could he possibly want, aside from the obvious sexual urges? Only one way to find out.

I wrapped my towel securely around myself, made sure everything was covered, and opened the door. The sight before me could not have shocked me more.

Dean was leaning casually against the doorframe, wearing that devious smirk again, dangling my shackles from one hand just within my reach.

First off, don't get any ideas. Though I don't mind a little kink now in then, those things are silver-steel alloy, used to lock myself up around the full moon when I'm traveling. The velvet is so I for comfort's sake if you must know. Good thing he didn't find the leg shackles; the only thing that could have made this possibly worse.

Now for the obvious question. How the fuck did he find them? I had them buried for crying out loud in the bottom of my closet.

"Hi Dean. Where did you find my toy, and why do you have it?" I asked, managing to grin back the entire time.

Smiling is the best way to mask yourself, it confuses people. Depressed? Smile. Confused? Smile. Scared shitless? Smile. Happiness may not be the best medicine, but smiling in the face of your enemies is a damn good drug.

He laughed, happy as a drunken clam. "You uh…left them on the bed."

"Did I now?" I asked, sliding past him to check the scene of the crime. The closet door was open, but nothing had been moved. At all. Only one culprit could be behind. I took a deep breath. Stay calm Jesse, its what he does, he's your best friend, he's…

"DANIEL HAYDEN YOU GET YOUR ASS IN THIS ROOM RIGHT NOW MISTER AND EXPLAIN!!"

Needless to say Dean looked at me as if I were insane. I grabbed a jar of graveyard dirt from the top of my dresser, and threw a pinch into the air.

"What?" the spirit asked.

"Was there a reason to throw my nice shackles on the bed?"

"Yes. It made me laugh," he replied, voice completely serious.

Daniel Hayden was my childhood friend, confidant, and 200-year-old spirit who resided in the Warner House since his death at the age of 24.

"Well, glad we could be of amusement," added Dean with another grin.

"Danny..its just….I," I threw my hands into the air in frustration before turning to Dean. "Do you know French?"

Again, he looked at me oddly. "No, why?"

"Good," I replied in relief before facing the empty space that my dead friend occupied.

"Are tu aberant?! Dean puovoir être trouver dehors mon porte! Elle est ton poste sur protéger moi, ne pas avoir moi tuer selon chasse!"

I didn't have to see Dean's face to know of his bewilderment. It was only worse after Daniel replied.

"Se détendre mon copain. Ton porte est sûr avec moi. Je promesse."

Relax? Yeah, easy for him to say! He's already dead. Still, I wanted this fight to be over with. We could get it out later if we had to. Somewhere private where we were free to speak English.

I sighed before responding, ""Tu avoir mieux. Parce que si mon porte arriver dehors, Tu suis mort. Un manière ou bien un autre, elles aller courir après moi duvet et tuer moi."

I could feel his presence surrounding me, holding me like I was a fallen sibling who had scraped her knee. I wish it were that simple.

"Je aller jamais laisser elles to porte si je découvrir," he began to whisper in my ear "Je aller faire tout en mon puissance vers garder ton porte ."

I nodded, "Merci," and he was gone once again, leaving me alone with Dean.

"Hey guys I heard yelling…is this a bad time?"

Great. Thanks Sam. Perfect fucking timing right there. Now I have to do one of really annoyingly long explanations about why I was wearing only a towel and yelling French while Dean was holding a pair of shackles. Without explaining too much. Seriously God, what is the deal today?

"Ok, that was the Warner House ghost, Daniel Hayden. He's been living in this house for generations since he died trying to protect Rose Warner over 2 centuries ago. He's not dangerous, he does not need to be salt-n-burned; he's just a bit of a prankster."

"So I see," Sam replied, looking away sheepishly. He was taller then Dean for Christ's sake, built like a Titan, and yet he was shy as a newborn pup. It was almost cute, almost. Shy boys were not my type. At all.

_Yeah I'm a selfish bastard  
But at least I'm not alone_

"Ok Sam," I began, dropping Jesse's toy on the bed and walking towards the door, "Lets give the woman her privacy."

Sam's expression said 'You, privacy?'. Haha Sam, very funny.

"Of course. We'll just be unpacking."

Jesse nodded, clutching the towel even tighter. It was kinda cute how modest she could be after flouncing around in jeans and a bra. Selective modesty.

"Uh huh," she replied, "You go do that."

Sam followed me out in the hall, closing the door softly behind him.

"Since when do you give any woman privacy?" he asked, grabbing a bag.

"Since I need to talk to my omnipotent brother. Do you speak French?"

(That's all till Ch 3! LEAVE ME REVIEWS!!!…please?)

TRANSLATIONS

J-"Are tu aberant?! Dean puovoir être trouver dehors mon porte! Elle est ton poste sur protéger moi, ne pas avoir moi tuer selon chasse!"

(Eng-Are you insane?! Dean could have found out my secret! Its your job to protect me, not get me killed by hunters!)

D- "Se détendre mon copain . Ton porte est sûr avec moi. Je promesse"

(Relax my friend. Your secret is safe with me. I promise)

J- "Tu avoir mieux. Parce que si mon porte arriver dehors, Tu suis mort. Un manière ou bien un autre, elles aller courir après moi duvet et tuer moi."

(You had better. Because if my secret gets out, I'm dead. One way or another, they will hunt me down and kill me.)

D- "Je aller jamais laisser elles to porte si je découvrir. Je aller faire tout en mon puissance vers garder ton porte ."

(I will never let them discover your secret if I can. I will do everything in my power to keep your secret as just that, a secret)

J- "Merci."

(Thank you)


	3. Maybe She's A Dominatrix

**Disclaimer:** woke up this morning, still don't own Supernatural. Damn

(songs used in this chapter are 3 Doors Down-Behind Those Eyes, and Three Days Grace- Animal I Have Become)

**Blue Moon**

Chapter Three: Maybe She's A Dominatrix

_Behind those eyes you hide…_

"Any word you can actually remember?" he asked me, sipping his own beer carefully on the couch next to me. What a lightweight.

"Yeah, actually. Porte, I swear they must have said it 10 times in the span of 5 minutes."

My brother looked off into space, thinking it over for a moment. "Secret," he finally replied.

My smirk turned into a full on grin. "Really now? Wonder what secrets she has…"

Sam gave me The Look. The 'don't even go there you pervert' look. He should have learned by now that it never worked.

"Dean…" he said, making it some kind of warning.

"What? You gotta admit, your curious. Hell, maybe, she's a dominatrix."

"Your sick man," he replied, nervously drinking his first beer again. I was on my third. It was beer, after so many nights of booze, beer might as well have been really carbonated seltzer.

"Dude, she keeps a pair of fucking shackles in her room. Purple velvet lined shackles. Explain that one to me sasquatch."

"Maybe she's a submissive,"

I raised an eyebrow at him. He surprised me, a first for ol' reliable Sammy

"Why Sammy, you dog you. You never told me you were into BDSM."

His next expression reminded me of the time I called him the uber nerd for spending two hours playing World of Warcraft. Indignation, anger, and confusion.

"I'm not! I just know stuff, that's all. Listen, we should do some research on the rest of the town, see if there's a pattern or, or something! Never know what we can find in this place."

Two hours ago I wouldn't have believed that statement, but after meeting Danny, I was a bit more open-minded.

"I'll go see if Mistress Jesse is done getting dressed, maybe she can tell us where the town records are kept."

He glared at me.

"Don't call her that dude, seriously."

"Alright…slave."

_I can't escape this hell  
So many times i've tried  
But I'm still caged inside_

I was already dressed, wearing a black tie back halter, cut-off shorts, and my own version of combat boots. The style reminds me of women's hiking boots, except they're completely black leather with a steel toe. I'm really fond of them.

My hair was even held back from my face in a massive black jaw clip to reveal a bit of charcoal eyeliner and clear mint lip gloss. And all under 15 minutes. Oh yea, I fuckin rock.

I had just finished packing my bag when I was ready to tear my room apart. Ugg! I just had it yesterday…

"Danny, have you seen my.."

Before the sentence was even finished the object of my search was hovering above an open draw.

"Merci," I replied, throwing the pewter celtic cross on its black cord around my neck. It stood for balance, and helped to keep me calm.

There was that scent again. I let out a sigh as I heard the knocking.

"Come in,"

Dean as always.

"I've got a proposition for you,"

Oh, God help me. Please? Come on, don't make me beg.

"Sammy and I were wondering if you'd like to come with us do some research. Problem is; we need you to get us to the town records.

I laughed, and silently thanked the Lord All Mighty.

"Alright, but I'm driving."

"No you're not," he said, his expression completely dead pan serious in less then a heartbeat.

Again, I laughed.

"Calm down, I've got my own set of wheels, and they kick your Impala's ass."

He raised an eyebrow at me, intrigued. "Prove it."

Haha, bring it on Titan.

_Theres something I can't see  
There's something different in the way you smile_

I followed her down the stairs and into the kitchen.

"Sam, you comin or not? Cause, I'll gladly leave you here."

He rolled his eyes before finally following us into the garage. What I saw there damn near stole my breath away.

Pitch blake, shining with the perfect reflection of a recent waxing, was a 1965 Thunderbird convertible.

"Nice ride," was Sammy's only response. I glared at him, willing him not to mess this up for me. Just this once.

"How's she handle?" I asked, cocking an eyebrow at the young hunter, who was completely amused by my awe. Hey, as long as she does that sexy grin, she can be as damned amused, as she wants

"Like a dream about wet sticky things," she answered, completely oblivious to her own innuendo. That or she was a damn good actor, I wasn't sure.

I hopped in shotgun as she leapt into the drivers seat, not bother with the door. Sam, however, did. Damn gentleman.

The garage doors opened on command as she revved it up, stupid ghost. The purr of the car took away the slight annoyance. Her music of choice, Buckcherry's newest album, kinda helped there too. I usually go for the oldies, but Buckcherry seemed determined to revive it. And he was doin a damned good job of it with Crazy Bitch.

Ok, let me just check my list here for one second. A gorgeous wild woman who loves rock music, drinking, and has a respect for old cars. It was official. Jesse was perfect.

Now all I had to do was kill this furball, maybe find out this little 'porte' she's hiding, and she's all mine.

I was not being presumptuous(just because I can't spell it doesn't mean I can't think it), no woman can resist me. I'm not cocky, it's a fact. Seriously.

_Somebody get me through this nightmare  
I can't control myself_

I threw the car in gear and parked it carefully in the lot, still humming Out of Line and swaying my hips to the beat as I walked inside the nice air-conditioned building.

Shades hid my eyes, just in case. One night till the first night of full moon, you can never be too careful. My bag was proof of that.

It was a little black mini-backpack, sitting just above my butt. Inside it safely concealed 3 syringes full of my day meds, one of night meds, my Browning High-Power loaded with silver bullets, wallet, and extra clips. Fully equipped to treat and kill werewolves. Why did that seem wrong?

I shrugged the thought off before it leeched onto my brain and headed up the old wrought iron spiral staircase to the records room upstairs, after flashing the desk guy my research card. I could smell the guys following me, mere footsteps behind.

I grabbed a computer, intent on confirming an order, and let the guys do their thing.

Hey, don't give me that look. I worked too. I looked over the murder locations that matched Eric's M.O., listing them to later put on a map. Multi-tasking; it's a talent of mine. The other talents I am **not** discussing. Ever.

_As you turned to walk away  
I saw another look in your eye_

I browsed the shelves while Sam tinkered away on his precious laptop, and Jesse busied herself on her own terminal. There was nothing I could see that was useful, except a map of the area. I left it next to Sammy and went to see what Jesse was up to.

What? Sasquatch is research boy. I don't do research, I kill things.

Apparently so did Jesse, who immediately minimized the page she was on, titled as I looked over her shoulder.

"Find anything?"

_Help me believe it's not the real me  
Somebody help me tame this animal_

It was about 3:00 in the afternoon by the time we returned to my house. We didn't even really find anything useful. All of Eric's killings had taken place in the park, which made sense. Easy way to kill without getting caught, and always have some form of prey.

So, it wasn't completely pointless. Or maybe that's what I was telling myself to not feel so useless. Yeah, that could be it.

No, I don't consider myself useless. Maybe confound for lack of a better term. Afterall, turning furry once, in this case twice, a month has its fringe benefits. Supernatural speed and strength, kick ass healing, and immunity to pretty much every disease you can think of.

Problem was I couldn't use any of those without arousing suspicion from my two houseguests, and thus getting killed. Life tends to be cruel that way.

Well, I did get something accomplished, just nothing to do with the case. Marianne had her medicine on the way, and she was pretty well in control for now.

I should probably explain that. I run a site called Lunar Haven. It's a place for others like me to help each other.

Now before you completely tweak out on me, know this. The offer only stands for those who have not yet taken a life, the newly turned. After a lycan gets its first taste of blood and death, there's no turning back. You become a monster. You become an Eric.

Anyway, I offer medication and a "safe room" as I call it free of charge, sort of an expenses paid treatment to control lycanthropy.

It is not a cure. There is none. Trust me, I know. I've spent the better part of a year searching for it. I turned 22, and accepted it. Doesn't mean I like it, but I've learned to deal…most of the time.

Add all of that up plus my feeling of confinement, I needed to get out. With about 3 hours till sundown, I had plenty of time to go out for a run. I jogged up to my room with plans on doing just that.

_Behind those eyes you lie_

Sam was in the shower, Jesse was out running, and I was on Sam's laptop. I tried to go with her…

"You want to go jogging?"

"…Yeah!"

"In jeans and biker boots?"

That was the whole conversation. She did have a point. And I was not going to wear shorts, not even for her.

Besides it gave me the opportunity to find out what Jesse was really doing earlier.

"Dean, what the hell are you doing?"

Damn.

"Reseaching," I answered, as if I always did research on Sam's laptop.

"Dean, looking at porn is not research."

I typed in the site url, completely focused, before the words registered.

"…hey!"

Ok, he had a good point. But hell if I'm letting Sam win. He looked over my shoulder, damn shaggy hair dripping water on my back.

"What are you doing?"

"Researching genius, now mind the shirt."

He did his usual eye roll-huff 'your such an ass'thing.

"Let me see, God knows I know more about computers then you do."

Again, he had a point. And if let me find out what Jesse was hiding…

"What exactly are you researching on an rpg site?" he asked, grinning in amusement in disbelief.

"Jesse and a what site?"

"Rpg, roleplay game. This sites a lycan rpg site, that's smart talk for werewolf role playing game."

"Haha dude, very fucking funny." Damn sasquatch, but then I had a thought.

"Can you figure out which sn is hers?"

"I dunno dude, maybe. This place has a ton of security protocols," he added, turning around to look back at me. "We could just _ask_ her Dean."

"And admit I was spying on her? Hell no! I'm not dealing with a pissed of dominatrix dude!"

"Don't call her that dude."

"Alright slave boy, don't get your bondage in a bunch."

"Dude, don't fuckin call me that."

"Or else what, _slave boy_?" I mocked,

"Or I won't help you investigate Jesse,"

"…you bitch."

(as always, R&R!! If I don't get at least two I will highjack Ch 4 from you, leaving you with this obnoxiously eivl cliffhanger until one of us caves)


	4. Just A Dash Of Jealousy

**Disclaimer:** You all know how this dance goes. I don't own Supernatural, or the songs used in this fanfic. All belongs to lucky millionaires, I only own Jesse and Daniel(and yes, I love them!) Songs used in this chapter are Seether- Hang On, Papa Roach- Take Me, and 30 Seconds To Mars- A Beautiful Lie.

**Blue Moon**

Chapter 4: Just A Dash Of Jealousy

_I'm burning in the heavens_

By the time I had gotten home the sun was a fiery orb in the sky, the clouds around it looked like a fresh bleeding wound. Hell, it still looked pretty. Everything reminds you of gore when you're me, and it's the night before three nights of full moon.

I walked inside caked in sweat, the iPod shuffle clipped to my shorts blasting Bring 'Em Back Alive by Audioslave from forlorn ear buds dangling around my neck. I kicked off my sneakers and dragged my soggy corpse into the kitchen, intent on a bottle of water and another shot.

The latter action, however, was impeded by the sight in the kitchen. Sam and Dean were at the kitchen table, a pile of at least 8 burgers and 5 cartons of fries between them. A feast to clog thy arteries. The growl of my stomach reminded me I hadn't eaten a thing all day.

"Welcome back," said Dean, taking in my sight with a grin. He was admiring my jogging shorts, French cut style with blue nylon and white piping. Note to self: Get baggier shorts.

"Have a nice jog?" Sam asked, picking up another burger.

I nodded. "Yeah. Helps me clear my head," and ignored the food to go to my fridge, grabbing a cold bottle of water and squirted a generous amount onto my face. Waterproof eyeliner is a blessing, as was the black halter. See, there's a reason to despise white.

Unfortunately the action gained Dean's attention. Shit. I hadn't thought of that.

Don't blame me! Have you ever been on a 5 mile run without food and drank ice-cold water? You will vomit. I know, there's no food, how can you vomit? Hell if I know, human anatomy was never my cup of tea. Your digestive system finds a way; like fate, but in the worse possible way.

I looked over the food in my fridge dismissively as my stomach protested yet again. Silence fiend! I'll find something to shut you up.

Problem was it didn't want something. It wanted meat. Damn men and their burgers. I was not going to interrupt their meal. For once I was going to be polite. Maybe turn a new leaf.

"Your free to join us," Sam said out of nowhere, during my raid of the kitchen cabinets.

"Yeah, grab a burger and a seat," added Dean, pulling a chair out beside him. Hey, who was I to object to free food?

_I gave my life away  
There's nothing left to say_

Sam's hacking turned up nothing. He said he needed more time, and his laptop needed to be charged. So, I sat next to the gorgeous redhead trying to not watch her and decipher her body language at the same time. Something I was particulary good at. You don't have to be College Boy to be a genius.

At the surface, she looked normal, well except for the part where she was polishing off her second burger. How did such a little woman have such a huge appetite? It seemed phsycially impossible.

Matebolisms aside, she looked regular. No nervous movements I could pick out, except her eyes. If you looked really closely, you could see them flicking to one drawer across the room. A quick glance while she wasn't looking revealed a small keyhole on its front. Can you say porte?

There was still something else. As if with all her loose and relaxed movements she was still stiff and confined. I shook it off as a lack of sleep and returned to the task of feasting.

Somewhere during this Jesse excused herself to shower, something about sweat becoming an uncomfortable coating of skin. I was watching her move, but not really listening. Can you blame me? I mean, c'mon, look at the shorts!

I didn't break my progression of eating until I heard the water turn on again, looking to my brother with a devious grin. He gave me 'your crossing the line' face. I ignored it.

"Hey Sammy, got a paperclip?"

_And I'm drowning in a hell_

It was late. How late exactly, I didn't know, nor care.

I'd spent the whole night watching a CSI marathon with the guys, waiting to almost get killed. It never came, Eric I mean. Shouldn't call it and It. It would make me an It. I'm not an it. I'm a Jesse. Keep telling myself that enough maybe it'll come true. Mmhm, and kittens bark.

Dean elected to stay up, telling Sam they'd watch the place in 4 hour shifts. It was all I really caught before dragging myself into bed. Too much Haloperidol, I didn't think there was such a thing.

I stripped out of my clothes, threw on a night shirt, and was dead to the world by the time by head collided with the pillows.

_My soul is in a coma  
And none of my friends can tell _

You could hear them screaming. Calling out your name. Not to help, but to run. To get out. You didn't. You ran back through the kitchen to living room, determined to save them. But determination counts for nothing when you're facing the supernatural with only willpower and your own strength.

It was too late for them. The stench telling you so even before your eyes caught sight of what little remained. They didn't want to believe it was human, that it was anything but meat. You ran, as fast you ever had, for the back door.

But it wasn't enough. It never was. It was pinning you down to the dew covered grass, jaws latched onto your right thigh. Its ice blue eyes looked at you, but it wasn't so. The eyes were yours. The victim was your prey, and all you wanted was to devour it in carnal joy. To drink every last drop of the crimson juice, rip into the sweet muscular meat, and wallow in what little was left.

I shot awake from my sheets once again, this time worse then before. Nothing registered, except my heartbeat and the labor of my lungs daring to work. Muscles rippled under my skin like something alive, making the pale mass look like water. It was stretching at the surface, threatening to break and spill at any moment.

I wouldn't do it. I would not. Telling myself that however, was about as helpful as spitting at the man who made me.

I flew to the nightstand, but I couldn't find the damned key! Supernatural night vision still couldn't even spot it. Damn it all.

My frustration got the best of me, and the draw was ripped from its place and onto the floor, scattering syringes and vials everywhere.

I scrambled on the hardwood, desperately until I filled a syringe with 20 mils of Haloperidol and 40 mils of silver nitrate. Twice the normal dose. It would help. It would save me. Or it would kill me. But my options were limited, die from meds, die from a silver bullet special courtesy of the Winchester brothers, or die later.

I'm a werewolf, not immortal. Death would come, the only question was when.

Apparently, unless something changed drastically, not tonight. My skin stopped dancing, my heart rate slowed back to some semblance of normalcy, and my lungs were no longer working their metaphorical asses off. Yippee.

Still, sleep would not come again tonight. I knew it already. Dreaming you killed the ones you loved will do that to you. I knew I hadn't. I knew it was Eric. But logic really does nothing for emotions. They will still kick your ass like salt to a spirit.

But hey, I wasn't alone. Danny was up. It was time to once again continue our old tradition. Amazing how some things just never change.

_Lie awake in bed at night  
And think about your life  
Do you want to be different...  
It's time to forget about the past  
To wash away what happened last_

"Dean!" I yelled after him as he ran past me to the basement. The door was locked, heavy on the was. The key had seen to that. He should not be going down there. I knew it. Because he wouldn't like what he found

Still he went.

I could only watch as he flung open the door to reveal what looked like a small lab. Silver melting station for bullets, glass vials, massive bottles of chemicals. But that wasn't the worse. I was ignoring the worse. Ignore it and it wasn't there. That's what Dean always taught me.

Not this time.

There in the back corner was a cage. And inside that cage was Jesse Warner, her eyes glowing ice blue, filled with fear. They sparkled, threatening to spill forth those salty tears. They looked down the barrel of Dean's gun.

Soft and innocent as an angel she whispered, those four final words.

"Please don't kill me…"

Deans finger wrapped around the trigger, his eyes full of malice.

Then I woke up, wrapped in cotton linens, trying to get my bearings.

Jesse wasn't evil. She just wasn't. I would have sensed it. So her eyes changed colors, a lot of peoples do when under stress or fear. Deans go emerald when he's pissed off, kind of a warning flare to shut one's cake hole. But then, what _is _she hiding? We never could get that draw open...

It was just a dream. Of course, I knew it was a lie. Lying to myself, hey, better then lying to everyone else. Despite popular opinion, I think I got the better half of the Winchester genes.

2am. It was about an hour till I had to take up Dean's shift. I could stay up till 3 and feign sleep, or not. I rose from my bed and resigned myself to watch patrol.

When I got downstairs to see Dean, asleep on the couch, I realized I wasn't alone. I could hear two voices, coming from another room in the house. It was close, down the hall on the left.

I followed it to come across a comforting sight. It was Jesse, playing chess. I tried to ignore the fact that she was only wearing a Metallica shirt that barely hit her at midthigh sitting down.

At first glance it looked as if she was alone. Then a knight opposite her moved and took out a rook, much to her frustration. It was so…innocent. Again my brain tried to answer that inexplicable question. How could Jesse Warner be evil?

_That I'm reaching out and getting nothing  
This is just a story of a broken soul_

"Hey! You cheated!"

"Did not," he replied with a grin, looking over the board again patiently.

"Did too!" I replied, throwing a bit of graveyard dust on him so I could see him. I wanted to see his incredulous expression.

"Did. Not," he countered with a grin.

"Did. TOO!"

He stuck his tongue out me, and I giggled. I fucking giggled. A 200-year-old dead guy just stuck his tongue out at me. How very mature of him. Then again, I, Jesse of the Gigglefit, was not in any position to cast stones.

"Prove it,"

Oh that rat bastard.

"And I'm not a rat"

"Well, there! You just proved it yourself!" I answered triumphantly, moving my bishop into positon. "Check mate"

He paused, looking over the board thoughtfully. "You sly minx."

"Umm, I don't mean to interrupt," Sam replied, standing outside the great archway leading into the study, "But do you mind if I join you?"

Jeeze, I hadn't even known he was standing there. Note To Self: Do not double dosage unless sure thy will not be spied upon.

"Not at all. Good game Danny."

He nodded and left the room, off to haunt some other section of the house. I eyed Sam warily as he took the now empty seat across from me.

"What are you doing up?" he asked.

"I could ask you the same question."

"Couldn't sleep. You?"

"Bad dream. Really, really bad dream," I replied, putting my pieces back in their places as Sam did the same.

"You get those a lot?"

I shrugged. "Sort of. Just, don't get this particular one so often," I said as I moved a pawn foreward.

"I think I know the feeling."

20 minutes later the number of pieces were slim. It was a great game so far. Sam was a terrific player, and not so much that I couldn't counter some of his moves.

"Can I ask you something?" he said out of the blue, looking at me with those big hazel puppy dog eyes.

"Shoot."

"How did you get away from a werewolf?"

Hey, it was a damn good question.

"Well, for starters it happened right here, in this house. My parents died in a car crash when I was 4, and my mums parents took me in. That night I heard them scream, tried to save them, but it was too late. I ran out the front door, but I wasn't quick enough. The thing, Eric, had me pinned, and then he was thrown off me. It was Danny. That night he saved my life."

"Now I see why you keep him around," he replied, moving his queen to the right.

"Damn straight," I nodded, taking out his queen with my rook. "Ok, I answered your question, so you answer mine. How does a sasquatch get puppy dog eyes?"

"Well, you see," he began, hand moving to remove the fallen queen the same time mine did. We touched digits and I no longer needed an answer, I just saw it. Fire, death, demon, parents, girlfriend. Poor bastard.

"Never mind," I answered breathlessly.

"How did you do that?"

I honestly had no fucking clue, which I relayed to him.

"Danny?" I asked into the darkness of the flickering candlelight. Danny and I always played chess by candlelight. It's tradition.

'Sorry' he replied in my mind 'I thought it might be better for you to see. Be careful, he is powerful and intelligent in a way that could prove dangerous to you. I kept them from opening the draw, but they are curious. Guard you secret well mon ami,' he whispered and was gone with a flicker of the candles flames in his breeze.

"It was Danny. He thought it might be easier if you didn't have to explain. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to, intrude on your mind or anything. And I'm even more sorry about…well..everything."

He grinned it off, saying it was nothing. It reminded me of, well, me. Except different. His smile was all calm and innocence. Mine hadn't been innocent for almost a year, if not earlier. Never was much for the proper young lady scene.

I moved my pawn foreward with a smirk before saying those two glorious words. "Check mate."

"You…you killed me with a pawn?"

"Hell yea, me and the President," I grinned, trying to keep a straight face. He laughed, and my own spilled out as well to join his. It was so..easy. Like Danny, just another brother from another mother.

"Having fun?" a cold voice asked from the darkness of the archway. It was meant to be light and calm, but I could feel the stab of cruelty, of jealousy. Was it because I was befriending his brother? Or was it because his brother was befriending me.

I didn't want to know. I did NOT want to KNOW.

It was my mental mantra, rinse and repeat it. Maybe it'll come true. But then again, we have reality.

_I can't control the need  
To weak to not concede_

I woke up, dreaming of a certain female hunter in the back of my Impala while blasting Def Leppard's Pour Some Sugar On Me. To say I was pissed off to not still be in said dream would be an understatement. A very, very, big one.

Then I heard the cause of my awakening. Laughter. Jesse's by the sound of it. And someone else's...

Sam. You thieving bastard.

(que the suspenseful music What will Jealous!Dean do to Sammy? Can Danny keep them out of that drawer forever? How will Jesse hide her secret when the moon is slowly rising? R&R to find out!)


	5. Skin Deep

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Supernatural, at all. Only in my dreams where I'm chased by plastic flamingos and saved by a certain shiny black Impala. Songs used in this chapter are Orgy- Stitches, and Seether- Love Her,

Blue Moon 

Chapter 5: Skin Deep

_I never found out how she survived all of the sadness she kept inside_

"Having fun?" I asked them, the words holding the promise of pain and cruelty.

Hey, it was 3am, I had a neck crick from that damn couch, and Sam was flirting with my girl(yes, she was mine, I called dibs).

Jesse smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. Those grey orbs held worry, which made me feel a heluva lot better.

"Yeah, we were, actually," she answered as if everything was ok.

"What's the problem Dean?"

"Nothing. Why would there be a problem _Sammy?_"

_As beautiful as fire against the evening sky_

Of course not, none of us can see your obvious possessiveness.

You could actually see it not only on his face, but in his eyes. They were so green I could have sworn they glowed with it, like pure dazzling emeralds of dominating hate. Beautiful and terrifying.

Hey, be happy I was keeping my eyes on his…well..eyes. The evil bastard was shirtless. Naked from the waist up. The tanned skin—and no one should be that well sculpted! It's a sin damnit, like Jesus and his god damn nazism.

Sam simply rolled his eyes at his older sibling as he rose from his seat across the table. That's it. Just keep looking at Sam, innocent brotherly Sam. Brilliant plan my brain.

"Whatever Dean. I'm going to bed before you do something stupid," he began before turning to me with a soft smile. "Thanks for the good game."

I nodded. "You too. Maybe we could do it again sometime."

He bid me one final goodnight and disappeared to his room, leaving me alone with Dean and his half nudity…and his glare. It was so uncomfortable it was…excruciating. Like if I stood still long enough he could see through me like crystalline glass, picking apart every flaw and smudge.

I got up and went into the kitchen, not even bothering to say a word to him. I could feel his anger, boiling up under my skin. It was not aiding too much in my battle to not turn furry early.

Goosebumps rose on my legs, making my bare thighs tremble ever so slightly. Someone left the window open. Probably Dean. Under normal circumstances, I couldn't blame him.

It was the middle of July and my house has no AC. But we weren't under normal circumstances now, we're we?

I threw it shut, locking it in place, before heading to my fridge. My foot shut the door as I found my prize, a bottle of liquor known as Fireball. My own personal favorite.

Dean was standing over me when I turned around. I wanted to be mad at him, but at the same time I wanted to avoid the conflict altogether. It was late, and I was in no mood to fight. What I wanted to do was put more distance between us. Us being me and his washboard abs.

"Mind if I join you for a drink?" he asked, eyebrow quirked as he caught sight of the bottle.

No. No no NO!

"Fine, there's beer in the fridge."

"I meant the Fireball," he added with the smile that must have melted a thousand other truck stop whores before me. Still didn't lessen its effect. Damnit.

"Hell no, get your own booze."

He laughed, the sound warm and touchable. "Fine."

Then he grabbed my bottle. MY bottle. Holding it over my head endlessly far out of my reach.

"Give that back."

Again, the smile. "No."

I grinned my own back.

"Is everyone in your family obscenely tall, or is it just you?"

"Is everyone in your family obscenely short, or is it just the beautiful women?"

Actually, it is everyone. The tallest was my grandfather at barely 6 ft. But damned if I was telling him that.

I jumped up, grabbing his arm that held my precious whiskey hostage.

"Please?"

Laughter again as he unscrewed the black metal cap with its usual flaming logo. "Please what?"

"Please give me back my bottle of Fireball."

He tossed the cap aside on the table, taking a sip without even a tick of distaste. Damn sexy bastard.

"If you want it, come and get it," he answered, smirking suggestively.

Fine, have it your way Titan.

_I never found out how she could lie with a smile on her face_

Damn, she had an excellent taste in whiskey. And she looked really cute standing there trying to plot her next move against me. Battling over booze is way better then chess.

Next thing I knew I was being shoved against the counter by said adorable redhead, still trying to reach her precious bottle.

"Bit beyond your reach?"

And then she jumped me. Figuring if she tackled my frame she could reach the bottle.

She was wrong.

I turned the tables on the young woman's plan, pinning her against the counter with my usual devious grin.

"Admit I win, and I'll give it to you."

She laughed, sexy and daring.

"You wish."

Her silver eyes were set with a glare for a moment, and then something flickered there. A spark of…something. Hell if I knew what. But it was there.

We were so close. That impossible closeness where you're not sure how you're still not touching; yet there it is.

"Fine," I caved, "I'll give you a taste."

Finally, I did what I had been wishing to do for the past 24 hours. I kissed her.

_Take me by the hand and see beyond the lies_

Dean was kissing me.

Dean was kissing me!

I was frozen in shock for a few moments. Electric heat as hot as molten lava spread throughout my body, and it took all I had to even get a coherent thought. I'd never responded to anyone like this before, which terrified me more then any evil entity I'd faced in my entire life.

Do I kiss him now and fuck him, or do I kiss and run, or do I just flee now before it gets worse…

I kissed him back, and he responded eagerly to me, allowing me access to taste the sharp yet smooth taste of my liquor on his tongue. I could feel my beast rise in content, finally getting one of its hungers fed. She swirled in my eyes, and I knew they were no longer grey.

As much as I knew I had to get the hell out of this kitchen. Now. Amazing sex with Dean was not worth me getting killed over. As far as I knew. Can't really judge unless I've actually done the wicked dance with him now, can I? I did NOT want to find out.

'Don't stop' one half of my brain, and my beast, were screaming at me. 'Just give in, just this once. It will be amazing, it will be perfect, just let go'

A sigh escaped my lips as his own moved down to my shoulder blade, nipping the skin there. Little did he know it was the exact spot where Eric had cursed me one year ago; the long gone scar tissue leaving behind only sensitivity.

'Let it go' my mind begged me.

And I did.

_Strip away the fences - leave me needing, leave me high_

I woke up next to a warm mass, cradling me to it beneath the sheets. It took me a few moments to realize it was Dean. Oh god oh god OH GOD!

I had sex with Dean.

I HAD SEX WITH DEAN!!!

It refused to register in my brain. Like mentally I refused to accept it. The half full still open bottle of Fireball on the nightstand hit home. Dean had decided somewhere between the first time and the…(I had no idea, 5th at least? I did NOT want to think about it), that is tasted better on me.

Ok, just had to think. I wanted to get away from here, from him. Now. Fast, faster would be better….bad image BAD IMAGE! Worse, the image was a memory.

Fuck.

Again, BAD MEMORY!

Some words I would have to refrain from using today. For good reason.

Just concentrate. The fridge is looking pretty sparse, I can go shopping! Brilliant.

Ok, need clothes to go to the store. Nudity bad, very very bad. Shirt, a shirt was required. Where the hell was it?

Navigating my way very carefully out of the bed, I looked around. My Metallica nightshirt was nowhere to be found. Damn you God!

There was, however, Dean's shirt. It hung down to my knees in a cascade of faded black cloth. Good enough for me. Still, need pants. Pants were down the hall.

I tiptoed down the corridor, willing God to please, just this once, be on my side and make the boys stay asleep. C'mon, it was barely 9 o'clock, in my perfect world everyone would sleep till noon, hence they should in my house.

Slipping inside my room, I quickly tugged on a pair of what used to be jeans, now ragged capri-like things with more holes then swiss cheese. But they were all in the knees and such, so it didn't look whorish or anything. Bathing suit top went under Dean's shirt.

Then I grabbed a syringe, aiming for the right balance of tranquilizer and silver nitrate. With enough meds, I wouldn't shift on the first night. It's only the 2nd night I have no control over. Injecting the meds, I threw the vials and empty syringes in a shoebox under the bed. The lock on the draw was ruined; I'd have to replace it. Till then, Danny had one more secret to hide.

I grabbed a bottle of body spray, and then hesitantly putting it back. The shirt still had that spicy-sweet smell of Dean, and damned if I was ruining it. My hair brushed and in a low ponytail, black flip-flops on my feet, shades on my face, and I was out the door in my precious T-bird, blasting Orgy as soon as I was out of range.

Hey, just because I like mullet-rock doesn't mean I don't like anything else. My ears worship everything from metal to jazz, and everything in between. Except rap and pop.

Satan created rap, pop, hangovers, and Dean's body. Seriously, ask him. $10 says he confesses to all charges, _especially_ the last.

My back pocket also hid one more surprise this morning. On my way out I found one last…shocker. My green satin undies on the post of my staircase.

_I mean that fucking you is strange  
And adored by me throughout  
Oh no it's you again...  
I'm so deranged you know  
I will never be the same_

I was just heading down the scenic route towards home when that familiar and ominous sound overrode the current of industrial music. Police sirens.

I quickly pulled an unintentionally flashy turn around and followed towards the park. Shit. The rumors were true.

It had always been a debated topic at Lunar Haven on whether or not one could control the beast well enough to change before the full moon. The med's suppressed the wolf, but the idea was if you learned to embrace your beast it could be controlled even better. I said it was a possibility, and reminded everyone the penalty of death. Death.

With a smooth parallel park I hopped out of the car to see what was going on. It was bad. Real bad. I hadn't even seen it yet, and I knew. It's not bad when you only smell blood, but this…it was meat, raw, and grotesque from the morning July heat.

Death in the summer is always the worst, the humidity and the pure sultry weather makes everything smell a thousand times more disgusting.

I shoved my way through the crowd to the headline that was held back just a few feet from the customary yellow Caution tape. I was wrong. It was worse then bad.

If I couldn't smell it, I wouldn't have known what laid before my eyes was ever human. It looked like scraps of meat, completely unidentifiable. The biggest piece was the size of my head, and it wasn't even a head. Or hell, maybe it was. I'm not even gonna think about it. Don't think, you don't comprehend, and you don't vomit. Point for me.

But that wasn't even the worst of it. Sure, maiming and death was extremely bad, but I could deal to the point where it didn't faze me too much. But the sight on the memorial stonewall did. It struck a real emotional chord.

There, written in blood that was still candy apple red, fresh and disgusting, and yet appealing to my beast, were the words "Now its more than skin deep."

July 14, 2006 

"_Its over Eric. We're through."_

"_But Jesse," he pleaded, begging in his own sick way. Amazing how an abusive bastard could beg and almost look appealing. Must have been how he lured me to him in the first place. "I love you. Please baby…"_

_Love?! We didn't love. Not anymore. Maybe once, a long time ago. Before he tried to take over me, and my life. Before he cheated on me. Twice._

"_You don't love me. Love is a pairing of souls. This is only skin deep."_

I shook off the memory and dug my cell phone out of purse. Dean had forced me to put his and Sam's numbers on my phone before I went on my run the day before.

His overbearing protectiveness had annoyed me then, but I was grateful now. Still, I was NOT calling Dean. I mean, what would I say?

"Gee, thanks for the mind-blowing sex, but my ex-boyfriend turned werewolf killed someone last night and I need you to come look at the crime scene. By the way, was it good for you too?"

Yeah. I'd call Sam.

Then hopefully get home before my fresh tub of Reese's Pieces Explosion icecream melted. People were dying and I was worried about the well being of my frozen deserts.

What can I say; I'm practical to the bitter end: death.

(That's it till Ch 6 guys! Where was the love last chapter? I got ONE review for chapter four. So, I'm being evil…er. Three reviews or I will hold Chapter Six hostage until one of us caves…(c'mon, I got 4 reviews for Ch 3, so three should be a piece of cake))


	6. Sexy Dominating Bastard

**Disclaimer:** Same old tango ladies and gents. Don't own Supernatural, or any other published material in this fic. I'm doomed to only own the plot, Jesse, Eric, Danny, and anyone else in here you don't recognize from the show. All products of my own little mind. Songs used are Evanescence- The Last Song I'm Wasting On You, and Buckcherry- Open My Eyes.

**Blue Moon**

Chapter 6: Sexy Dominating Bastard

_Are you strong enough  
Do you feel my touch  
You are the comfort in my eyes  
Moving through the lust  
Feeling dangerous  
I want to open the door to your life_

"Dean, DEAN!"

Someone was yelling for me. And it did not sound like screaming fits of pleasure either.

Fuck. What time was it?

"Dean, get your ass up man!"

It was Sam. I reached over to wake up Jesse, only to find a piece of paper.

_"Out shopping, be back soon" -Jesse_

"I'm up Sam!" I shouted back at the blurred figure standing in the doorway. What was it about everyone forcing me get up so early lately?

"Get dressed. Jesse just called. There's another body down at the park."

Shit.

Hey, hold on a sec. Why didn't she call me? Hmm. Damn good question that. Only one way to find out.

_Sparkling grey,  
Through my own veins_

"Jesse Warner!"

I moved to put my hands up with a grin. How many times I had been in this position before, I had no idea. What I did know was that this time I was getting off without even a warning.

"Deputy Wilson."

"Its _Sherrif_ now Jess"

I turned around to see David Wilson, a friend of mine from high school. We sort of helped each other pass all of our classes. Wasn't for him, I would have never passed Pre-Calc.

"A lot changes in a year."

He nodded. "That it does. What are you doin here Jess?"

I sighed. I did not want to be having this conversation.

"Do I need to respond to questions you already know the answer to?"

He did too. I wasn't being that evasive. Except the 'I'm a werewolf too' part, he knew that some things just couldn't be explained. That's where I came in.

"Good enough for me," he conceded, lifting up the yellow tape for me to cross.

"What's the official story?"

"Well," he began, "they're saying it looks like some rabid dog attack. Possibly a coyote."

"David, we both know what it looks like, and what it is, ain't exactly the same thing."

He looked away, masking something. Worry.

"I know what that message meant Jess. You sure you're safe all alone?"

I could go into a rant about sexism, but just saying the root word would bring back far too many memories I did not need on my mind right now. Or, you know, ever.

"I'm not alone. John's boys are in town."

He looked completely relieved. Don't be so surprised; John was a hero in my town, sort of a real life Walker Texas Ranger to us.

"The Winchester boys, Sam and Dean?"

I nodded. "They're staying at my place till this thing is…resolved."

"Alright then. You can take a look around, just watch where you step. If anyone gives you a hard time, you know where to find me."

"Thanks David."

"Don't thank me Jesse. You just be careful."

"Aren't I always?"

_The steps we take on the way to free our minds_

I parked my Impala behind the Thunderbird, donning my fake id and tried to find Jesse. If she wasn't here, how the hell did she just get into the crime scene?

Damn these questions seemed to be piling up today, hell, even worse then the body count.

We presented our badges to one of the cops on the scene, when the Sheriff approached. Oh shit.

"Its alright Deputy, these are John's boys. They're with me."

"Yes sir," the cop nodded obediently, not even giving us one suspicious look before guarding the scene like a diligent little puppet.

This day just kept gettin' weirder.

"How'd you know who we were?" I asked as I followed Sam under the tape.

"Your father did a lot of great work for this town. I can't understand what, don't think I ever want to either. He was a good man, terribly sorry for your loss boys."

"Thanks," Sam replied with his usual innocent little grin.

"Where's Jesse?"

"Just sniffin' around."

_Any more than a whisper_

David had no idea how right he was. My heightened sense of hearing allowed me to hear them despite the constant buzz of the crowd, cops, and usual media vultures.

Sniff I did, and I found his trail. Found being the operative word. It immediately ended at the edge of the woods. He could have masked it with something. And there were a lot of somethings that could overpower a scent trail.

"Hey Jesse," I heard Deans voice call, "How come you didn't tell us?"

My heart literally jumped into my throat, and for a moment, I couldn't breathe. I was dead. Well and truly going to die.

"Dean, I'm sorry…"

"You could have just told us," he countered before I could finish.

"Yeah, it's not like some terrible burden you know," Sam added.

Oh no, being a werewolf is a stroll in the fucking park. The urge to go lap the blood of the grass 20 feet away is like an added cherry to complete the perfect fucking treat.

"How'd you meet him anyway?" Dean asked.

They already knew that…didn't they? Ok, now I was confused.

"Wait, what?"

"Our father, when did you meet him?" Sam asked.

Oh thank God! I was more relieved then the day I found out I could control my beast.

"Yeah, why? What did you think we meant?" the elder of the two inquired, cocking an eyebrow at me suspiciously. Apparently my relief showed. Shit.

"Nothing. I met your dad when I was a kid, about 7 I think. He wanted to kill Danny. Thought he was the root cause of what was killing the kids in this town, and that I was the next victim."

"What did it turn out to be, if not your friendly Casper?" Dean asked, falling into step with me as we walked the line of woods, looking for clues.

"A shtryga," I replied, stretching my neck and shoulders to work out a kink. The movement made Sam's eyes go wide a moment, then receded as if it were never there.

"What?" I asked him, a little snappish. I didn't mean to be, honest. 9 o'clock with no coffee, I'm not responsible for my actions.

"Nothing," he muttered, looking around for a trail.

"No, it wasn't nothing. You had something face," I said accusatively pointing at him. It looked pretty ridiculous.

"You've," but his response was cut short by an elbow to the ribs, courtesy of his older sibling. "Its nothing, really. Forget I said anything"

Uh huh, surrre.

"Whatever" I said, putting my hands up in finality.

"The trail is completely gone. It just..ends." Dean began, walking back towards the cars.

"No worries. We'll come back here tonight, and take the bastard out," I answered, hopping into the drivers seat of my T-bird.

That's when I noticed it. Where Eric had once bitten me, there was a brand new mark, courtesy of Dean. A purple and red blossoming hickey. Fucking sexy dominating bastard.

Before the boys could respond, I peeled out and sped my embarrassed ass home, speakers blasting Orgy's Blue Monday.

_Any sudden movement of my heart_

Taking a little known shortcut, I beat the guys home by a long shot. It wasn't a race, just me being evasive.

I quickly set the groceries down on the table before bolting upstairs, using every ounce of my lycanthropic speed and grace.

By the time I returned to the kitchen in a blur a movement, only a minute or two mind you, the groceries were already put away. Two thermoses were filled and waiting as sandwiches made themselves.

"Thank you Danny."

"No problem ma chéri,"

The I felt it. That scent. Not Dean's blend of spice, but something else. It raised the hackles of my beast and before I knew what was happening my gun was in my hand. Evil, grotesque, and familiar. Similar, yet completely opposite to myself.

"Eric," I whispered, a promise of death.

Danny was there, raising a dark chocolate eyebrow at me.

"I did not sense anything last night ma chéri"

"Well, your sensors are off then dead boy, because he was here."

I followed the scent, tracing his steps. He came through the window, searched my spice cabinet, and then messed with my cd player. With hesitation, I turn it on. The first few bars made me smack the off button in disgust. It was That's Not Enough by Maroon5. It was our song.

_"Jesse, hey, wait up!" he called, laughing as he chased me through the house. I wound up in the kitchen, radio blaring an oh so familiar tune. Unfortunately, it left me little to no place to hide. Crap._

_I turned around to find a spot, to see him towering over me with a smile and a laugh. _

_"You listen to Maroon 5?" _

_"Yes. Why? Do you have something to say about it?" _

_He didn't speak. His solid blue eyes stared into mine with unknown intensity. He kissed me. And it was about goddamn time. _

"They're back"

My face was wet. I was crying.

Fuck this.

I grabbed my backpack and slipped out the back door. The edge of the woods seemed to call to me, warm and inviting. Ignoring the dirt path, I sprung forward and flung myself into the forest's sweet embrace.

_And lives have changed by the way we free our minds_

What was earlier a thought was now a hard based fact. Compiled with the evidence of two notes in the place of her presence.

Jesse Warner was avoiding me.

Apparently she had decided to go out swimming. The note failed to say where.

"Yo Danny boy!"

In an instant the spirit materialized in front of me, annoyed and impatient.

"What?"

"Where's Jesse at?"

"Swimming."

"I know that num nuts. Where is she swimming?"

"Maybe she wants to be left alone" Sam interjected, throwing the last armful of empty beer bottles in the trash. Something caught his eye, but he took one look at the ghost and said nothing. Weird.

"I don't care what she wants, I need to talk to her," I replied, fighting not to raise my voice at him. It'd just get him pissed, and the last thing I wanted on my plate was an annoyed Sammy. He wasn't annoyed though. He was…amused. Grinning even. What the fuck…

"Dean…you really care about this girl."

"Shut it," I said sternly with a glare of silence before turning to Dan. "Now Casper, I'm askin one more time," I began, cocking my gun at the same time, "then I'm gonna shoot you with a load of rock salt. It'll feel like dyin' all over again. Where is she?"

The damn dead bastard laughed.

"I like you already. She's at the lake behind the woods, just follow the path. It'll lead you straight to her."

"Thanks dead boy."

"…Don't call me dead boy, Winchester."

_And I know, I know I'll have to watch them pass away_

Music and cold water surrounded me. My black 30 gb iPod sat on an old blue towel a little ways down the dock, hooked up to its speakers. It was currently blasting Lacuna Coil, Our Truth. How ironic.

I climbed a ladder up the dock, wearing a black two-piece batching suit. It was nothing special, the usual tie back halter top that made your boob's look huge with matching bottoms that tied on each hip. But I was alone, so it didn't bother me.

The constant swarm of questions on my mind however, did. How did Danny not detect Eric in the house? What was I going to do with Dean? What would I do if I couldn't get them out of town before the moon rose tomorrow night? How did I even feel about Dean?

I didn't know. I didn't know a damn thing. And it bugged the living hell out of me. Okay, just one question at a time Jesse old girl.

Dean was amusing, devious, and way over confident. Cute in his own right, and holy hotness Batman. He loved the classics of rock, old muscle cars, and hunting. We had discussed this last night before Sam interrupted our game. Danny was right. Dean was good for me, dare I say perfect for me.

But I wouldn't do it. I would not fall for Dean Winchester. He would be the death of me. Literally. Sooner or later he'd find out what I really was. Sooner or later, I'd end up dead. I may be cursed, but I wanted to live.

Satisfied with my conclusion, I sat down on the towel, listening to blue-jays music over my own as I took a sip of tea. It was delicious, warm, inviting, and poisonous. My beast rose faster then a bat outta hell. I spat it out in disgust, throwing the mug and its contents onto the nearby banking.

Wolfsbane. That son of a bitch. My skin was doing the tango and my eyes burned a violent ice blue once again. It does not bane wolves; it's the equivalent of fucking catnip!

Breathing ragged and hard, as if I was having an asthma attack, I rushed to my bag. Desperately emptying it onto the dock until I spotted a full syringe. My hands shook so hard it took three tries to pop the cap and get it positioned above my brachial artery. Finally I breathed a sigh of relief as the sweet medicine rushed into my veins.

I shoved the contents back into my bag once my vitals were normal again. It wouldn't be the last time, that was certain. I needed to keep my senses on edge, especially after last night's discovery. So I was only on Ativan and silver nitrate. Here's to God it works.

It did. I heard a twig snap from at least 500 feet away when that spicy scent floated towards me. Dean.

Fuck! How the fuck did he find me?

Danny. That dead ungrateful bastard. I was going to kill him. Except I couldn't. Fuck! It was all my mind could think.

Fuck fuck FUCK! Fucking Dean and his…nevermind. Memories. How the hell did he do that thing with his tongue… Bad bad BAD memories. Very VERY BAD!!!!

Fuck it. I was going to do what I came here to do.

Quickly, I sprinted down the dock and dove back into the lake's cool embrace.

_And being with you was the moment I opened my eyes...  
I want to dance with you with the midnight moon one in motion and do it again_

I never knew how graceful she was. I realized this as I watched her dive in the water while walking up the path.

Hell, I knew she was limber, proved that damn well last night, but this? How any one pulled a flip like that I had no fucking idea. It was like she had muscles in places no one should.

Fast as hell, I shucked off my clothes till I was down to my navy boxers, and joined her in the water. Almost couldn't blame her evasiveness at the feel of the cool lake. Almost.

When I surfaced her gray orbs were on me, an uneasy smile on her face.

"How'd you find this place?" she asked, stretching in the clear water while floating lazily on her back.

"Casper told me."

She laughed as I floated beside her.

"His name is Daniel,"

"His name is 'I'm a pain in the ass who should be shot with rock salt'"

Diving down, she appeared again at the ladder, slowly climbing out. Slow was good, slow was fun to watch.

I followed her, taking a seat behind her on the warm wood. She looked so fucking cute, dangling her feet in the water there, kicking up a soft arc with her toes.

God, Sam was right. I was so totally screwed.

"I asked the Sheriff about that message in the park. He said you knew."

She let out a sigh, her expression immediately giving way to something…deeper. Something dark that I hadn't even known was there.

"Its just something I told Eric the night I broke up with him. I told him our feelings were only skin deep. Apparently he feels otherwise."

"Ok, now here's something I didn't ask the Sheriff about. What's been up with you today?"

"Well, good thing you didn't ask David about that," she said with a laugh, attempting to lighten the mood.

"Seriously."

"Seriously…I'm not sure what I'm doing. I'm not…how the fuck do I put this…I'm not used to sleeping with someone and waking up with them the next morning. And I've never had one living in my house that happens to be a fellow hunter. To be honest with you, I don't know what the fuck to do next."

"Well, that makes two of us sweetheart! I don't do this…share our feelings shit often. Ever."

"Well then why me?" she asked, pitch of her voice raising in distress.

"Maybe because I care about you!"

_You dare tell me you love me_

Oh god…oh god…OH GOD OH GOD OH GOD!!!!

This is a disaster, a tragedy! I've gotta tell him he can't fall for me. Tell him he doesn't know me.

No, bad idea! Cause then he'll start digging into stuff and want to get to know me because he cares about me and then he'll figure out I'm werewolf and then he'll hate me and he'll kill me and he'll steal my car! I've seen the way he looks at her!

Ok, that last bit was probably just insane ranting but you know what I mean!

What do I do what do I do. I thought that phrase over and over so fast it sounded like chipmunks were running circles in my cranium.

Then it hit me.

I could run.

"Dean…you're making a drama out of nothing. It was just sex. Really amazing mind-blowing sex, but that's all."

"Nothing else?"

God how he tried to hide it, handsome face perfectly void of all emotion. I was glad and pained for it. Glad for it kept my eyes somewhere other than that perfectly toned chest of sin. But I could smell it there, beneath it all. Something so real I could almost hold it in my hands.

And now I was going to break it.

"Nope."

He laughed, so joyous and innocent, and so full of pain. God I wanted to kiss him. To tell him I cared. But he would be the death of me. And death was not an option. Not until I killed Eric. Not until I finished it.

"Good. Now, you tell Sam we had a chick flick moment, I'll kill you."

I laughed.

"Why would when I can give you such a better reason to do so?"

He opened his mouth to respond, but the words never came out. Because I shoved him in the lake.

I had him for one more night. And damned if I was gonna enjoy it.

(sorry this chapter took me so long guys! Notice its a lot longer then my usual 7 page length, actually over 10! As always, read and review for I need lots of love!! Thanks for the great reviews last chapter too!)


	7. Hunting Waskalwy Werewolves

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Supernatural blah blah blah…ON WITH THE FIC! Songs used are Skillet-Whispers In The Dark, and 3 Doors Down- Let Me Go.

**Blue Moon**

Chapter 7: Hunting Waskalwy Werewolves

_You'll never be alone  
When darkness comes I'll light the night with stars  
Hear my whispers in the dark_

The moon hung high overhead. Combined with my night vision, I could see everything perfectly.

Trying to ignore the bright orb's sway, I moved swiftly behind a tree, reaching out with my senses. It was difficult because I had to stifle a giggle when I heard Dean whisper something about Elmer Fudd. "Be vewy vewy qwuiet, we're hunting wascawly werewolves."

God, sometimes I worry both about him AND for him. This is one of those times.

Ok, concentrate. On something OTHER than the sweat just beginning to bead on Dean's skin, which was all to weird because from this distance I shouldn't even know where he is. Sometimes I freak myself out.

Sam had just crushed a dandelion, 100 feet or so to my left. His elder brother was about as far off to my right, gun drawn and at the ready.

He was close. I could hear his heart beat racing out of rhythm, smell the aroma of earth, musk, and pack.

Before I could react, before I could even think, I was being pinned to a maple tree by 200 pounds of grey and black fur. His claws began to dig into my biceps, drawing tiny rivulets of blood and tearing a cry from my throat.

I lifted my legs and delivered a roundhouse kick to his chest in a blur of motion. He had only shifted half way, like the wolf-man in one of those 90's horror movies, but a thousand times worse with no cheesy effects. My eyes stared right into his, mirroring their frozen hue.

The gun was gone, lost some where in the scuffle. I drew my own silver daggers, circling him dangerously, a complete predatory act. He launched his body towards me, and the dance began.

_You'll never be alone  
When darkness comes you know I'm never far _

"Jesse!"

She didn't respond. Damnit!

I ran, gun aimed in the direction of the fighting.

Stupid fucking werewolves.

_I'm torn between this life I lead and where I stand  
And you love me but you don't know who I am_

I was trapped in a deadly tango. I dodged his blows, getting nicked every now and again. Nothing serious, barely a few cuts.

"Jesse!"

Dean. I froze, less then a second, but a moment was all he needed. Dazed and confused, I was without weapons, without movement, and without hope.

"You smell of another man. I will kill him," he whispered, a fatal promise.

I laughed.

"If you killed everyman I've ever had sex with after I kicked your ass to the curb, there would be a serious dent in the attractive male population."

"If that's what it takes, then I shall do so. You belong to me Jesse, and no one else. Now, to take care of that mark…" he trailed off, lowering those ferocious jaws to the now maroon hickey on my neck.

Pounded into dry grass, skin twitching, eyes burning, heart racing, I did the one thing I could do.

I screamed.

_I will be the one that's gonna find you_

By the time I got there she was pinned by that damned thing. Worse, if I shot it, I'd cap Jesse too. Fuck!

"Hey, furball!"

He lifted his head to face me, giving me a death glare that reminded me of some daughter's father, or brother, or mother. The 'you-deflowered-my-little-girl-get-out-before-I-castrate-you' one.

Jesse took the opportunity to throw him into a tree. Damn. She was stronger then I gave her credit for. Remind me not to piss her off.

Somehow the bastard was gone before I could even aim. I'll say it again. Stupid fucking werewolves.

"You ok?"

She glared at me, a new level anger I hadn't seen before. One I never wanted to see again.

"I'm fine! Go kill him damnit!"

Fine? She looked like someone had tried to make mince meat of her.

Blood ran down her arms until it dripped off her fingertips from a nice assortment of scratches and a set five jagged holes on each smooth bicep. Her jeans were ripped on her left thigh, a nice slash at least 7 inches long there soaked her jeans with blood.

"Fucked up, Insecure, Nerotic, and Emotional you mean. You like you've just stepped out of a 90's slasher flic."

A gunshot interrupted the argument, stopping whatever was about to come out of those gorgeous lips. How the hell could I check her out when she was covered in blood? Dean, sometimes your just too hot for your own damn good.

Sam. Sammy was in trouble.

"Stay here," I commanded, gone before she could say otherwise.

_In my head there's only you now  
This world falls on me..._

Stay here?

He was kidding right? Some kind of a joke?

I found my fallen gun and my knives, stuffing them in their wrists sheaths and shoulder holster, respectively.

Couldn't blame him much about the wounds though. I saw my reflection in one of the silver blades. I looked like Carrie, except the blood was mine.

What the hell was I supposed to say to comfort him? 'Its ok hun, my lycanthropic healing will make it all better'?. Mmhm, sure, then DEAN will kill me instead of Eric. Fucking perfect.

In any case, I ran after him, only to find everyone in a stand off. Eric held Sam in a headlock, while Dean was poised to take his head off with a sawed-off shotgun.

"How long do you think you can keep it from them?" Eric leered as I ran forward with my Browning aimed at his skull.

"Depends," I said, stopping next to Dean, "How long do you think you're gonna last?"

Sam was still blocking the shot. God fucking damnit!

And then he was gone, leaving behind only his disturbing laughter, and something else. A scent, sickly sweet, but I couldn't place it.

"Jesse, you look like hell," said the youngest brother, his eyes taking in my macabre look.

"Thanks Sam. Cause here I thought I looked dead sexy with blood dripping down my arms. Don't feed my ego, its almost as bad as his," I said with a grin, gesturing with my crimson thumb at his brother.

"C'mon, we'll wrap those and clean you up at home," said Dean, taking the point to the car. He wasn't taking any chances. Bully for him.

"Aw Dean, are you concerned about my well being?"

_I will be the one that's gonna hold you_

"No," I lied with a grin, "I just don't want you bleeding on my seats."

_One more kiss could be the best thing  
But one more lie could be the worst  
And all these thoughts are never resting  
And you're not something I deserve_

We were in the bathroom offset from the kitchen. We being myself and Dean. I didn't want to risk getting blood on the stairwell rug, it was an antique. I also tried to tell him I could handle it myself, but he wouldn't have any of it.

I tried to set my mind elsewhere. But I could only concentrate on two things. One was the shirtless and slightly wet bare chest in front of me(the shirt had gotten soaked in the process of cleaning my wounds in the sink). Water drops beaded on the tanned, muscled, surface, and I was fighting every impulse not to lick them off.

The other thing was his touch. Every time his skin touched mine in any way it set of a thousand little electric pulses, sparks of white-hot heat demanding I take him.

I needed a shower. A cold one. NOW!

Suddenly I was snapped back to earth by the movement of his hands on the front of my jeans.

"Dean. What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"Taking your pants off," he said, his voice carefully neutral, hiding a grin.

"We are not having sex in here, Sammy is right outside in the kitchen!"

"I need to look at that cut on your leg. Not like its anything new Jess," he said as he had begun to call me. Still, he had a good point.

"Alright, but I can take off my own pants,"

Hey, I could. He had been careful not to bandage my joints, giving me maximum movement. I didn't know if that was for hunting purposes, or for sexual benefits. Don't think I wanted to find out either.

So there I stood, wearing only a black bra with matching satin undies. I would not be embarrassed. Just think of it as a bathing suit. Hell, had more to it then my bathing suit.

I sat up on top of my sink as instructed, too exhausted to fight with him. Besides, it made sense. He was way too tall to stoop, and no way in HELL was he getting on his knees before me in my current attire, or lack of.

His fingers touched my thigh, only inspecting the wound. That's all it is damnit that's it so brain stop having those fucking idea's!!

I hate you God.

_Despite the lies that you're making  
Your love is mine for the taking...  
My love is  
A burning, consuming fire_

The cut looked pretty bad. Big enough to probably need stitches, but I'm no doctor.

What I did know was that I had to get this done. Because Jesse needed to get some clothes on, or I could not be held responsible for my actions. Surprised I've gotten this far without trying something…yet.

"Is there a clinic in town?"

Her eyes widened just a bit.

"That bad?"

"Could need stitches."

She shook her head, sending her crimson locks tumbling everywhere. Those silver gray orbs weren't even a little concerned for her own well-being.

"I'll be fine. Just wrap it up."

I did. She was probably right. Hell the damn thing had already stopped bleeding, so it either wasn't as deep as it looked, or Jesse was getting divine intervention.

When I tied off the knot my hand brushed her thigh, making her breath hitch. It was a total accident I…no, that was a lie. It was completely thought out before hand.

It was barely a second, that pause, but it was there. And it said volumes.

On her counter-top perch, she was only an inch or two shorter then me. I burned, no other words could describe it. We has just met yesterday, and there was so many damn things I didn't even know about her. What I did know was this: I could not, **would** not, lose her.

Any word or line didn't seem to fit. Actions speak louder then words, so I acted, by taking those sweet, full, pale pink lips and crushing them with mine.

_And no matter how hard I try  
I can't escape these things inside I know...  
When all the pieces fall apart  
You will be the only one who knows_

I was drowning in flames, any other phrase could never do it justice. God, I wasn't even sure that one did, but it summed it up pretty accurately.

I was burning alive FROM Dean and drowning IN Dean all at once. Frightening and yet intoxicating, like some form of forbidden drug.

Forbidden. Prohibited. Off fucking limits. That's what Dean was in reality. And all he ever would be.

I shoved at his chest, hard and forceful, breaking the illicit meeting of lips.

"Dean! What the hell?! This needs to STOP!"

He looked at me, green eyes soft, his expression one of complete innocence. It was a Sam face, and he wasn't Sam, so why could he have that face? It seemed like cheating somehow.

"Why?"

Because if you know what I am you wouldn't touch me. You wouldn't kiss me. You'd look at me the same way you look at everything else you hunt. You would slip on that cold emotionless mask that lets you kill and do what you do every damn day, kill the supernatural.

If only things were so black and white, so simple. It seemed everyday brought a new shade of grey.

"Because it just does damnit. This is all _your _fault"

"Really?" said the Sam-Dean.

"Yes! You and your stupid hands that make me crazy and I sware it should be illegal in every fucking state for someone to be as attractive as you are! I bet if I go to a cross-road I'll find damn good evidence that your entire form was crafted of sin cause no man can be as fucking irresistible as you are what is so fucking amusing?!"

He was grinning, that same melt-in-your-shoes(or in this case lack of) smirk that makes me want to smack and kiss him all at once.

"You are. Last night you felt something Jesse," he said with relief, and something else. Triumph. Victory. Hope.

What the fucking hell was I supposed to say to that? There was no point in denying it again, because he would see right through it. If I told him how I felt, there was no way I was leaving this bathroom with what little remained of my clothes. If I told him why we couldn't this, the truth, he'd shoot me. And he wouldn't miss.

I said the only thing I could say.

"Goodnight Dean."

And I left him there, walking calmly out of the bathroom, before dashing up to my bedroom, fighting every impulse to use all my speed. Running past Sammy in the kitchen in my skivvies was bad enough, but running past in a blur, I think they'd finally figure it out.

But Dean knew. He knew how I felt. I smelled his sheer joy, like a child on Christmas morning. Just like that child, I knew he wouldn't give up. Fresh out of options, I did what I knew best.

I locked the door and ignored every moment of it.

(See? Told ya it got better...ish. Thanks for all the love last chappie!! You all seriously keep this fic alive! Welcome to the new readers as well, thanks for hopping on board! Anywho, go leave me more reviews, and I'll type like a fiend on speed! love yous all!!)


	8. Happy Anniversary

**Disclaimer: **Eight chapters in and loads of adoring fans, you'd think they'd let me in on a little piece, but despair, for I still do not own Supernatural. Songs used are Taproot- Calling, and Hoobastank- Running Away.

**Blue Moon**

Chapter 8: Happy Anniversary

_You want me to stay  
And what you want me to say I'll never say  
So what do you want from me?  
_

I awoke in a daze of emotion. Thoughts ran around my head like hamsters in gerbil wheels, spinning out new ideas and concoctions even wilder then the last. Little was certain. What I knew was my pillow was wet. In a moment I remembered how, I cried myself to sleep. Oh yeah, that. I also knew I had to get my lethargic ass out of bed.

Rolling off and falling on my back, I groped around under my bed till I found that familiar shoebox, taking my morning medicine and depositing the empty syringe in the nearby trashcan.

A quick shower and a change of clothes, I was entering my kitchen to find Sam working intensely on his laptop, while Dean was cooking breakfast. My stomach lurched at the smell of bacon and French toast.

"You cook? Why was I not informed?" I asked, filling a mug with hot coffee, followed by my usual loads of sugar and cream.

He grinned. "I have a lot of hidden talents,"

I couldn't help but return a smile, and a blush. He was definitely talented all right, as I could unfortunately recall in perfect detail.

"How are you recovering?" Sam asked, looking up from his laptop.

He must have noticed the bandages. Most I took off before the shower, and yes, it hurt like someone poured liquid acid with quick silver on my skin.

The cuts, I counted 4 on my forearms and one on my left upper arm, were already healing nicely. The bleeding stopped and didn't start again; it was enough for me. The nice puncturey claw wounds and the thigh scar still needed to be covered up.

"Better. Most of these look pretty cosmetic, probably won't even scar,"

Dean nodded.

"Good. Now I've got one more reason to kill that sonuvabitch," he smirked, handing me a plate of breakfast.

I shook my head as I sat down. The action made Sam's eyes go wide. He must have seen my artillery.

Today was July 21st, the day Eric killed the last of my family, and turned me. I wasn't taking any chances, hence, I was packing. My Browning High-Power loaded with silver Glazer Safety rounds was hidden in a shoulder draw holster. It blended in well with the black camisole, and the light green unbuttoned over shirt hid it perfectly. Until it blew back that is.

But we're just reaching the tip of the surface. Silver daggers on each ankle, and another that resembled a short sword in a spine sheath. All I had to do was wear my hair down, and voila! Invisible sword.

"With all the research you've done on this gig, I'd figured you'd know," I replied to the younger brother, chasing down the last of my toast with a hot cup of French Vanilla roast.

He nodded grimly. "I don't blame you, just a bit surprised, that's all."

Dean took a seat, with enough food to feed me for a week, looking completely confused.

"What should we know, aside from—nice gun, Browning?"

I nodded, "Thanks. Nothing, just the date."

"The day Eric killed her family," replied Sam with a shy grin my way.

He said it for me, and I was eternally grateful. Sometimes you can say something and then your eyes get all watery, as much as you demand of them to do otherwise. Tear ducts are the most treacherous bastards since erasable pens. Write with one sometime, you'll understand my analogy.

"And that, is never a good day."

As I ate I noticed something, or nothing. Sam seemed very…withdrawn. Almost nervous.

It was probably nothing. I chalked it up to exhaustion and the armed female in the room. Hell, there was that, and the dash I made past him last night. Could have something to do with it.

After breakfast, I explained my plans to the brothers. They were both all for my run and hide scenario, which was perfect for me. Dean, however, still wanted to accompany me to the police station. I won the argument with the point that one hometown girl would have an easier time then an outsider, even if he was a Winchester.

So now I get to my current predicament, as I sped to the other side of town blaring Audioslave, thinking about the warm fuzzy feeling of breakfast with Dean.

I loved it, and yet hated it. I hated it because it caused me pain. Because it reminded me of everything I would be leaving behind.

Last night, while Dean called my cell phone 37 times (yes, 37, I counted twice) I packed. Cash, emergency passports, meds, clothes that would mix and match for every season, the usual chick stuff, plus the one back up gun not in my car; a Beretta 9 ml loaded for werewolves with extra clips of lead and iron. All of that went into a worn brown leather duffel bag, now stuffed under my bed.

I briefly considered leaving then, last night, before things got messy. But immediately nixed the idea. Until Eric was either dead or gone, I was staying. For better or worse. I prayed for the first, but betted on the latter.

_Cause I did enough to show you that I  
Was willing to give and sacrifice...  
And when I get close, you turn away  
There's nothing that I can do or say_

"What the hells up with you Sam?"

You'd be asking your brother the same damn question if you were sitting on a wooden dock in the middle of a fucking lake instead of tracking down the fucking werewolf that tried to kill the woman you loved. Twice.

"I found something."

"About Eric? Well hell you could have said that 15 minutes of walking ago!"

"No, Dean…about Jesse."

Now it all made sense. Couldn't have dead boy overhearing us now, could we?"

"What?"

"I was taking out the trash yesterday dude, and…I found a syringe."

"You're fucking kidding me."

He was wrong. It was Jesse damnit, there had to be some logical explanation!

"Dean, I wish I was, but dude—"

"No, dude, its impossible. There's no signs, she would have signs,"

"Look Dean, it could be nothing. She could be a diabetic, or, something!"

No shit Sherlock! Jesse's not at addict, and fish don't walk. What else is new?

"Is there anyway to know for sure?"

"Yeah, I just need a few things. There's a high school nearby, I can get them there. It'll take some time to get the results though."

"What about that, uh, the hacking!"

"Same deal. Whoever built Lunar Haven really knew what they were doing. I should be through by nightfall, hopefully."

"Well then get crackin college boy."

_Your face is burned inside my brain  
I lost my way  
Your taste, a stamp flows through my veins..._

I was sipping really bad coffee in David's office, waiting for _Sheriff_ Wilson to come back from his meeting. Half the force either glared at me, or checked out my ass. Most of the glaring party was women. Couldn't blame them much there.

My arms were carefully folded across my chest the entire time I had entered, giving my pose a look of constriction. It was either that, or flash my gun. I could deal with a bad translation of body language.

"Hello David," I greeted as he entered, setting my coffee down on the desk. I held out my hand, but got a hug instead.

"Please tell me that has a permit," he whispered in my ear, completely neutral.

"The gun or the blade?"

He laughed, breaking the embrace. "Nevermind, forget I said anything. So, whats this about?"

"When you searched the crime scenes, did you ever pick up a sort of sweetish scent? Like a weird maple syrupy smell."

"Not that I've heard of. You mean molasses?"

"Yes!"

Why hadn't I thought of the sooner? I blame Dean.

"A lot of old warehouses scattered around town used to store molasses back in the 18th century. Check out the town records hall, or the historical center across town."

"I'll do that," which was again, a lie. Why go to some foreign building when the expert on all things 18th century haunts my house?

"Is there anything else you can tell me?"

He rose from his desk, shut the blinds, locked the door, and we spent the next forever going over the gory details.

We had lunch, deciding to catch up on old times. I told him of my college adventures, going for my degree in marine and wildlife biology. He told me of his rising talent in law enforcement, and the weirdest cases that happened in our hometown.

It was wonderful and freeing. For a few hours I felt normal. If you live the lie for long enough, eventually you start to believe it too.

By the time I got home the sun was already beginning to set. As planned, I grabbed a small backpack of supplies for the night, and with a goodbye from the boys, locked the basement door.

Fortunately, they were too distracted to even bother trying to look inside. Places to go, psychos to kill, I understood.

The sun was now a bleeding speck on the horizon, waiting to drop and leave me in the darkness at any moment. The worst part was, I didn't care. All I wanted was on the other side of that door, cleaning his weapons for the "trillionth and one" time today as Danny delightfully put it.

I would NOT fall for Dean Winchester. I told myself this every second of everyday from the moment I laid eyes upon him. But this lie I couldn't live in. Deep down I knew it was just that, a lie. In my heart I realized it was too late, and I had in fact fallen in love with the chauvinistic bastard.

Shove the thoughts aside, I told myself. It was pointless. He may have care for, hell possibly love, nice human normal Jesse. But Jesse of the werewolf curse? I was gonna bet a big, fatal, no.

Shedding my clothes, I donned a pair of jeans that were a good two sizes to big, and one of my grandfathers old work shirts that hung down to my knees. After a fashion and a drink, I locked myself in a cage, waiting for the moon to rise.

_So now I need you to tell me the truth  
You know I'd do that for you_

I was loading my shotgun when I heard him.

"Dean! I think I've found something!"

Guess dead boys opinion didn't matter anymore.

"Whats up?" I asked, looking over his shoulder at some color chart.

"Her account name is behindblueeyes. She's the freaking admin Dean!"

"Meaning?"

"She run's this entire site."

Unfucking believeable.

Seriously. I didn't believe it.

"Damn. She's clever. Use it to lure out other werewolves, hell maybe Eric too."

"No, Dean, that's not it."

Oh shit. He had "the look". The 'I-have-something-to-tell-you-but-you-gotta-promise-not-to-kill-me' look.

"What?" I snapped.

"The test results just came back on that syringe. There's traces of silver and tranquilizer."

"No."

"Dean…"

"No! The test is wrong Sam, you fucked it up!"

"I tripled checked it Dean, there's no mistake," he answered, his voice carefully neutral as he handed me a key on some sort of necklace chain.

"Let me do this one for you, I owe you."

Like hell he did. I grabbed my shotgun, and took the steps two at a time, despite my brothers protests. Jesse was human, damnit. This all had to be some huge mistake. All I was going to find was a very confused, possibly freaked out on account of the date, Jesse.

I was wrong.

To my left was a lab, bottles of different chemicals all neatly labeled. Right next to this were molds and a Bunsen burner for melting down silver to make bullets, just as our own dad had taught us years ago. Kinda fucked up how she could treat herself and kill her own kind on the same damn table space.

But that wasn't the worse. No, not buy a fucking long shot. The worst was right in front of, bared for all to see.

What I saw down the barrel of my favorite shotgun was Jesse in a cage, her once grey orbs glowing ice blue. The exact fucking color Eric's had been last night.

There was one difference in those eyes. Where his held hunger and ferocity, hers showed fear and defeat.

With that soft kind voice, tender and calm, she whispered.

"Please don't kill me."

(Can you believe theres only about three chapters left of this fic? But have no fear, or possibly have fear, for I am already planning a sequel! Thanks for all the love last chapter guys, really helped me work on this one! Now go leave me more loverly reviews so I can get crankin on Chapter Nine)


	9. Things That Start With 'D'

**Disclaimer:** Just like the other eight chapters, I still don't own any of Supernatural, all products of brilliant writers and the malicious CW.

Songs use this time around are Linkin Park- What I've Done, Evanescence- Snow White Queen, 3 Doors Down- Behind Those Eyes, and Buckcherry- Everything.

**Blue Moon**

Chapter 9: Things That Start With 'D'

_You said "I got something to say"  
Then you got that look in your eye  
"There is something you've got to know"  
You said it as you started to cry_

My eyes burned, threatening to spill forth those treacherous tears. Damnit I would not cry in the face of death. I would not.

I stared right into those blazing emerald eyes, up the shiny barrel of his treasured sawed of shotgun. Time stood still. The only way I could tell it passed at all was his hand. It was shaking now, even in its teacup two-handed grip. His arms were starting to waver as well.

Strength doesn't matter when you're holding a gun. After a few minutes, no matter if your Arnold the Govenator or an anorexic twig, your muscles will scream at you.

"I can't do it," he whispered, so softly that if I wasn't a friggin a werewolf, I would have barely heard a mumble. He also lowered the gun, and I held out a breath I didn't even know I was holding.

"What?" Sam asked. See? Told ya so.

"I can't do it Sam!"

"Dean, give me the gun, I'll do it for you."

"No!"

I think this one of those moments where I should shut up and let them decide. As long as the gun wasn't pointed at me, I'd be quiet, for now.

"Dude, I know you like her and all, but its not like—"

"I love her Sam!"

"WHAT?!" I finally spoke up, somehow synchronizing with the younger brother. Hopefully the boys would watch their step, couldn't have them stepping on my jaw, which must be on the floor somewhere.

"I'm sorry, can you repeat that into my hopeful ear?"

"That all depends," Dean began, "Can you explain what the fuck is going on?" He practically growled the last words, fighting not to raise his voice at me. And god damnit it was really hot.

See? This is what happens when I date. I feel no pull whatsoever to the cute yet dull guys, thus I end up getting turned into a werewolf and this time almost getting killed for BEING a werewolf. Love has almost gotten me killed, twice. Then again I'm still not sure if I'm walking out of here ever again and why are they looking at me like—holy shit I just said that all out loud!

Not a good time for my mind to have a verbal epiphany.

"Ok, for starters, ignore the accidental thinking out loud. Second, I'm not a dominatrix, a druggie, a diabetic, or anything else that begins with D for that matter. I'm a werewolf. But I've never hurt anyone.

"I know you found one of my syringes. Its how I control it. Silvernitrate and Ativan during the day, switch the Ativan for Haloperidol at night. It keeps the beast in line."

The fact that I had made all of that, those barely seven sentences, into coherent understandable phrases was a miracle. Conjugations and feelings spun around my cerebral cortex so fast it gave a whole new meaning to the term brainstorm. The combined confusion, anger, fear, and care from the two brothers (gee wonder where the caring came from) only added to my mental tornado. I was amazed I wasn't getting dizzy.

"I've spent that past year of my life hunting down Eric. Cleaning up his mess," though really, that was a lie. For forever I secretly called it my mess. It was my responsibility to hunt down Eric. In my own fucked up way of Dean taking care of Sam, I in turn took care of Eric.

"How do we know your not just like Madison?" Sam asked, his face carefully neutral.

"Its good of you to bring that up, though there's no need for the emotion mask," I added. It was my own twisted way of lightening the mood. Stating a random fact to help whoever I was arguing with. If he were yelling I would tell him to stop or his throat would be sore.

"Eric made Madison. It's his M.O. He gets off on turning lovers or the like. He's sick, smart, and a twisted son of a bitch."

"No, Kurt made Madison," Dean interjected.

I couldn't help but grin just a little when I put in my response. Being intelligent doesn't come too often for me, so I savor what little moments of it I have.

"Yes, but who turned Kurt?"

Silence. Point taken.

"I know what you do on Lunar Haven. Why couldn't you do the same for Maddie?"

Oh hell. Sam used a pet name. For the first time in the past forever of staring down the barrel of a gun, I was glad to be the one locked in a cage.

"She was already gone. And I don't mean this from a moral stand view or any of it. Once a lycan takes a life, they never go back, and they never stop. I was going to take out Madison myself, but you took care of that. I watched from a window outside as you cured her. I really am sorry for what you had to go through. If I thought I was like Eric, or Madison, I would have taken care of myself a long time ago."

I didn't have to turn around to know the sun was gone. The moon called to me like a forbidden mistress, seducing my senses. The shifting of bones broke the spell.

Someone was screaming, and it was me. I was on my knees on the concrete floor, no idea how I got there. The ribs, it always starts with the ribs.

Shapeshifting is not elegant. Its not smooth, or pretty, or even fast for that matter. There's no little POOF I'm a wolfie now, or a glow for that matter. Its slow, its disgusting, and it hurts like nothing else on this earth.

Muscles shoved my skeleton too and fro. My metacarpals were breaking and re-knitting, and my skin danced like some second mass, alive and breathing with a life all its own.

"Get out," were the only two words I could speak while I remembered how to breath.

Sam left without a fuss, but Dean wouldn't have any of it. Surprise surprise.

"I'm not going anywhere," he said calmly, a clear demand.

"Dean," I gasped as my lungs began to fill out the ribs, "I go," breath, "crazy around you when,"gasp, stupid fucking leg muscles, "I'm human. After I shift," I barely managed to squeak out as my phalanges broke and re-knitted. "I might…I need you gone." I barely cried out as my hands finished growing out a nice set of claws.

"Jesse, I'm staying,"

"Then I need—" but the words were lost as my spine contorted, making my back arch and ripping a cry from my throat.

"Shoot me,"

My eyes were met with hazel orbs, filled with a haphazard mixture of confusion and worry.

"We already had this discussion, I won't."

"Not that," I barely whispered, my voice coming out hoarse when raised. My body felt like molten clay, impossibly hot and pliable. It was almost over. He needed to hurry. Now.

"The tranq gun," I finished, one disturbingly long and gnarled hand pointing to the forlorn weapon, propped in the corner.

He quickly grabbed it and took aim. As he did so my skin began to move faster and faster, until it wasn't skin anymore. I could feel it spilling over me, drenching me in clear liquid goo so scalding it should have burned, and as always it miraculously did not. My mind slipped away and my beast howled in victory for a moment or two, until something stabbed my hind leg. The world went black, and all was quiet and peaceful.

_Buried way beneath the sheets  
I think she's having a meltdown...  
Loosing her grace starts to cry  
I feel her pain when I look in her eyes_

She was different. I've never seen an actual wolf form of a werewolf before. If I hadn't known what was really lying in that cage, I would have been wondering what the hell someone was doing with a Timberwolf locked in their cellar.

Her fur was this silvery gray, like mercury, only lighter. In the light of the moon it had an almost blue radiance to it.

Dread was the main thought on my mind. Because tomorrow morning we were going to have to work out a ton of emotional shit. No words could really explain just how much I did not want to fucking deal with it. No fucking chick flick moments, that's always been the unspoken rule.

But if I didn't, I'd lose Jesse. If there was a way to keep that from happening, then damnit to hell I was gonna do it. Doesn't mean I have to like it.

_In this farewell  
There's no blood  
There's no alibi_

I woke with the word's most painful neck crick. The cage was empty. Probably went to go clean up, can't imagine that clear gunk of her skin is very comfortable.

It was when I walked into the kitchen that I knew something was off. Call it a hunch, hunter's instinct, but something was wrong, in a very bad way.

"Jesse!"

"She's not here,"

_You belong to me,  
My snow white queen.  
There's nowhere to run, so let's just get it over_

I awoke in a world of spinning Technicolor, my vision blurred and spotted, my senses dulled, body unwilling to move, and a migraine the size of Lake Eerie threatened to split my skull in two.

Taking in a breath, I smelled something. Musty, moldy, maple syrupy…this wasn't my cage. I opened my mouth to scream, but not sound came out.

"Ah, your awake,"

_'Cause I've drawn regret  
For the truth  
Of a thousand lies_

I came damn close to putting a silver shotgun shell right through dead boy and into the outlying wall.

"She got out," Sammy glared at me.

"No," Daniel countered, "She was taken."

"You don't know that."

"Listen you fool. The bars are not broken, the house is in order, and the cage is unlocked. With the added tranquilizer dart there is no possible way for her to have awakened before sunrise. The last, which concerns me the most, I can not sense ma cheri anywhere."

"Are you…is she dead?" I asked, barely able to form the words.

"Non, I doubt that greatly. Eric cares too much for her to allow it. But just as he escapes my sense, so must he be hiding her."

_Soon I know you'll see,  
You're just like me.  
Don't scream anymore my love, 'cause all I want is you._

"Drink," and I did, only so I could spit the following words back.

"If you so much as hurt Dean, or Sam, in any way, shape, or form, there won't be enough left of you to fill a chipmunk's gallbladder."

He wasn't frightened, hell he wasn't even afraid. Stupid him, he should be. I've heard tales of Dean's rage, what lied under that cool and charming exterior. Yes, he should have been scared shitless.

Instead he laughed. Arrogant as always. Some things never change.

"Might I remind you my love that you are the one locked in a silver cage."

"Thank you for pointing out the completely and utterly obvious. What next, gonna tell me I'm naked?" I'd just noticed myself in the passing minutes as my senses came back to me.

My newly returned eyesight revealed that every scar was gone, as if they had never been. Aside from being locked in a cage, there was also a thick ring of salt, maybe 2 inches tall and wide, completely surrounding the cell. Said prison was in the middle of a basement, a very old one at that.

"Yes, there is that," he smirked, giving me a toe-to-head once over. "I was about to give you clothes, but you abuse my hospitality."

Yeah, like he was going to actually give me clothes. I could smell the lie, yippee! Back to all five senses.

"Yeah, I bet. I'm no ghost Eric, so why the spirit circle?"

"Can't have your precious phantom find you now, can I?"

Damn him to the deepest circle of hell. You know, the one were you're forever trapped in your 12 year old body surrounded by never ending legions of cockroaches that slowly pick you apart for all eternity while singing Nsync and forcing you to read John Steinbeck's The Pearl.

"Pray that I never break out of this cage. If I do, I'll snap your neck like a wishbone," I began, saying the next words in an all too cheerful and perky tone, "Wanna know what I'll wish for?"

He cocked a black eyebrow at me.

"Long life and happiness?"

I shook my head, sending my crimson locks flying.

"Chocolate mousse and Dean Winchester."

He laughed, shaking his head like a condescending parent.

"You will learn to love me again Jesse."

It was my turn to laugh, though the sound was not joyous like his. It was harsh and cruel, empty of all happiness, and like a thousand needles piercing his skin. He almost flinched. Almost.

"Remember that saying, you can't teach an old werewolf new tricks?"

"As you should remember that it is pointless to hide your fear. I can smell it now like fine Sauternes; sweet and enchanting."

"That's not fear you're scenting. It's a very pissed off Jesse Warner who is going kill you slowly, with pleasure."

(Thats all till Chapter 10 folks! As always, thanks for the love, and please leave me more! Also, if you didn't see on my profile, my PMs and such are pretty much out. If you want to reply to a review or leave me a challengeyou know you want to, feel free to email me, )


	10. Striking Fear Into The Hearts of Sickos

**Disclaimer: **Finally reached double digits, and still, Kripke owns its all. Except Daniel, and Eric, and Jesse, and…you get the idea. If you don't recognize them, they're either mine, or you live under a rock.Songs used are Nickelback- Savin Me, and Hoobastank- Out of Control

**Blue Moon**

Chapter 10: Striking Fear Into The Hearts of Sickos

_Prison gates won't open up for me  
On these hands and knees I'm crawlin'  
Oh, I reach for you  
Well I'm terrified of these four walls  
These iron bars can't hold my soul in  
All I need is you_

For the past hour I was alone, something I was more grateful fore then I could have ever imagined.

This bit of time was used wisely. The cage was pure silver, which was actually a ­_very_ good thing. It's in fact a pretty weak metal. If I could find something to cover my hands, I could break out of here.

I tried reaching out to Danny, but it was pointless. Stupid to even attempt, I know, but I had to try something. You see, I have this mental list of ways I absolutely refuse to die in. Trapped in the basement of my psycho ex-boyfriend turned lycanthrope psycho kill is #2 on said list. The first was being eaten alive.

As long as the salt circle was there, I was stuck here, wherever the hell here is.

So now I was kneel on all fours, blowing a hole in my sodium chloride prison one granule at a time.

Those last words were no exaggeration. The wall was thick, and far enough away (about 2 feet, maybe 3) that my air worked slowly as hell, but it did work none the less. Soon Dean would come, my knight in a shining Impala.

_Where should I go?  
What should I do?  
I don't understand what you want from me  
Cause I don't know  
If I can trust you  
I don't understand what you want from me_

"Dean, would you stop the pacing?"

I was pacing? A glance down proved that I infact was pacing the living room floor back in forth with about as much patience as…some…patientless…thing. I was so fucking freaked out I couldn't even think of a decent analogy. Hell, I was putting my trust in a fucking SPIRIT! Yeah, I was a goner.

"Dean's in love with a werewolf."

"Sam wear's women's underwear."

"Good, I have your attention," he said, grin not even flinching from my comeback. What the hell was his deal?

"Dude, what the hell are you smiling about? Jesse could be getting tortured right now, or…worse!"

"Dude…you fell in love with a werewolf!"

"I didn't mean to Sam, damnit! It just happened." I wasn't lying either. Sometime in the past two days I realized it, on our way to go hunt down psycho furball. She was singing along with Ozzy to No More Tears, and it hit me with the same force that damned semi smashed into my car.

"Find anything yet?"

"Nothing useful. What are you going to do, when you get her back I mean?" He didn't say if, smart boy.

"My original plan was to take her with us, now…I dunno. One pain in the ass at a time Sammy."

"I like her."

Well that was the last thing I expected from werewolves-must-die Sammy.

"Really?"

"Yeah. She's not a complete dim witted moron like most of the girls you hook up with, Cassie excluded."

"Thanks…I think. Now enough of the chick flick crap and on with hunting down this sonuvabitch."

_Come please I'm callin'  
And oh I scream for you  
Hurry I'm fallin', I'm fallin_

The sun was already over halfway through the sky. Kinda creepy that I knew that, and yet I couldn't even see it. Just another effed up residual lycan thing. My best bet was about 2ish in the afternoon.

I tried to concentrate on the task at hand; to keep a level head. But honestly, I was about 2 seconds and a blink away from tweaking out all together. What if he already killed Dean and Sam? They could be lying on the floor right now, turned into scraps of meat and so much blood.

No. No damnit it wasn't possible. I would have known. I would have smelled it on Eric, even if he washed down 10 times in Lysol. Shakespeare was right, the blood really never does wash off. Just breathe Jesse, breathe and concentrate and soon you'll be talking to Danny and everything will be ok.

I was laying down on the floor now, still working on the wall of white powder keeping me from my dead amigo. Yes, I know, laying down nude on the dirt floor of a basement, not exactly sanitary. But damnit it was comfortable.

A scent was wafting under the crack of the old chestnut door. Old Spice, with some form of herb, and blood. Oh, it was Eric.

I sprawled out on the floor, an attempt at natural. Trying to escape, me? What would make you think a thing like that?

I barely raised my eyes as Eric strode in the room, long black hair pulled back in a ponytail now, wearing his customary ruined jeans and no shirt. Naked from the waist up, except for one thing. A medallion, one I recognized during my search of how people avoid spirit detection. How the hell had I NOT noticed that earlier?

My eyes then came to the thing in his hands.

A chipped white plate held a steak, raw and bleeding, seasoned with some familiar and seductive poison. Sweet and pungent…and—wolfsbane.

Son of a BITCH!

"I might even contemplate eating that if you actually cooked it."

My cold words fell on deaf ears as he laughed it off yet again. I wonder if he ever gets tired of hearing himself chuckle, seriously.

He slipped my meal under a 3 inch tall gap in the bottom of the bars, just a wide enough for the plate to fit.

"It is not a question of if, but when. The moon will rise, and the call of meat, herb, and her sway will bring your beast. You will feast, and then we will hunt, together. When the sun rises tomorrow morning, you will truly be one of us."

Great. Fan-fucking-tasting.

"Sorry chuckles, but eating a person alive wasn't exactly on my list of Things To Do Before I Turn 30."

"Consider it an addendum."

Wonderful. Still, as long as he was here, might as well try to make him of some use.

"What time is it?"

"Sun sets in 3 hours. I suggest you eat. You'll need energy for the change."

I wanted to tell him I wouldn't be changing, at all. That I would not, shall not, shift. But the smell of the meat, the intoxicating aroma of the wolfsbane, and suddenly I wasn't so sure. Did I mention lying was pointless?

"Go to hell you sick son of a bitch."

He laughed.

"Baby, I'm already there."

The evil bastard left me yet again, with only those parting words.

But that wasn't all, he left me something useful too.

_I feel like I'm spinning out of control  
Try to focus but everything's twisted  
And all along I thought you would be there  
To let me know I'm not alone  
But in fact that's exactly what I was_

"Dean, Sam!"

Dead boy had news. About fucking time!

"I found her! She's in Calcutta, just outside of town, number 27 Williamsville Rd. Little over an hour away."

Thank fucking God! I let out a breath I hadn't even realized I was holding. Jesus fucking Christ.

"Is she alright? What's she sayin'?"

"She says 'Dean, Sam, Daniel, if any of you are listening I'm in some musty old basement, locked in a cage, waiting for the moon to rise so Eric can turn me into a female Jeffrey Dahmer. Now get your asses down here before I seriously end up killing someone. Danny, if they don't get here in time, tell Dean…hell..just tell him I love him."

Damn. That changes things. A lot.

"Winchester, sun sets in…47 minutes."

"You wanna tell me something else I don't already know? Cause now, we've got about 45."

"Her supply in the basement was destroyed, but there's a backup, under the bed in an old shoe box. Trust me, you're going to need it."

I could barely think, barely speak, barely take a single fucking breath. It was like everyime Sam disappeared times infinity.

"Dean,"

Speak of the devil.

"Hey man, listen. You have got to keep a clear head on this. I know that look man…you…just keep focused, alright?"

I grinned, quickly slipping my game face back on.

"Crystal."

_Heaven's gates won't open up for me  
With these broken wings I'm fallin'  
And all I see is you_

As always, I tried like all hell to concentrate. Keep my sense stretched far and wide and assess the situation. Just like any other gig.

Yeah, right.

The plate was shoved back out of the cage after Eric was out of earshot, making a nice gap in the salt. It disrupted the circle's power, and I spoke to Danny. Even now he was still whispering to me, sweet French nothings to calm and relax my racing heart and frantic breathing. Too bad it didn't work on my mind.

The most effed up part was, it hardly had anything to do with the fact that Dean could die tonight, or I could die. Hell, I could eat Dean, and not in the fun sexual way, I mean actually devour him.

Still, the reason behind my upset was simple, stupid, and sad.

I loved Dean. Wholly, truly, and fatally.

I knew it all along, thought I tried to deny it. Told myself over and over I was just lonely. Too long without friends, or sex, or hell, someone to talk to that held an actual corporeal form.

It didn't work, as I should have known all along. I spend a lot of my life in a form of denial when I can. Sometimes if you ignore something and pretend its not there, it goes away. But some will still bite you in the ass. I accept what I have to, like being a werewolf for example. On some level at least.

A part of me wanted to dance around like a little schoolgirl because Dean loved me. Dean LOVED me!

I'm sure it'd be a sight for Eric, me dancing around a raw poisoned steak, naked, doing the "finger dance", and chanting "Dean loves me!" until I ran out of breath. Oh yes, that would DEFINITELY strike fear into the sicko's heart.

God, I had to get out of here.

(hey all! Sorry this one took so long to write! It was a real pain in the ass, every damn word of it. Plus been busy with prom coming up and school work. Now go leave me lots of love! Cause, I REALLY need it!)


	11. The Power Of Nudity

**Disclaimer: **Sam, Dean, and anything else of the amazing show Supernatural are all products of the brilliant Kripke. Anything else, is MINE! Except the songs used, Trace Adkins- Bring It On, and Puscifer- Undertaker. Those aren't mine either.

**Blue Moon**

Chapter 11: The Power of Nudity

_Troubled soul, all alone  
I can feel your sadness_

The pedal was pressed to the floor, as it had been since I peeled out of Jesse Warner's driveway. The sun was reduced to a half circle in a smear of crimson clouds, looking like some open bloody wound.

Sammy hadn't spoken a word the entire drive, but hey, neither had I. What was there to say? "Don't shoot my girlfriend, or I'll kill you."? Yeah, silence was definitely the better alternative.

I pulled an all too flashy left turn; complete with squealing tread marks, down Williamsville Rd. I was getting Jesse out of there, killing that evil son of a bitch, and heaven help any bastard that dares get in my way.

_Before I go tell me  
Were you ever who you claimed yourself to be_

They were close. Minutes away, if that. I could hear that all too familiar purr of the Chevy Impala's perfectly tuned engine, smell the intoxicating scent of soap, Axe, and that unique spice that was Dean Winchester.

It was a miracle he didn't get pulled over for speeding. Twice the speed limit, he would have made any cops day, just with the prospect of that ticket money.

There was one but one problem.

The sun was setting, and I was locked in a cage with a16-ounce bleeding mass that called to my beast like spirits to psychics.

Eric was coming. I could hear the footsteps and the venomous taste of rage long before he threw open the basement door.

"You whore! I offer you love and happiness, and you bring those foul humans here to kill us both!"

"Only one of us is dying here tonight Eric, and it ain't gonna be me."

He laughed. Seriously, it was beginning to get on my last nerve. I could not afford to get angry right now either. Setting sun, fresh meat, wolfsbane, and anger. Might as well have me wear a big friggin sign in red paint with blinking lights that says BEWARE OF SHIFTER on it. Yes, in all caps.

"Do you really think they'll let you live? After knowing what you are? You can live in denial as much as you please, but in the end you are one of us."

It was my turn to laugh, and damnit I enjoyed it. There was no happiness in it. Just the sharp cruel stabbing of a thousand throwing knives.

"One of you? Hate to burst your bubble Chuckles, no, I kinda love to actually, but I am anything but you. I save people, instead of slaughtering and ruining their lives for all time. You are nothing but a psychotic, sadistic, excuse for an almost human!"

He opened his mouth to make a comeback, but immediately closed it at the sounds of gravel being ground beneath tires. Thank you God.

"We'll finish this in a minute," he growled, so deep and animalistic for anyone to know he wasn't human. At all.

_You're cornered up and hunkered down  
The walls are tall around you_

Shotgun poised to kill, I followed Sammy around the back. Kinda pointless if you think about it though. Cause, sneaking up on a werewolf? Pretty impossible. But hey, the least we could do was try.

Through the back door we snuck inside, quiet as mice. I signaled Sammy to take one hall as I headed towards the basement. That's when I heard him scream.

I bolted into the kitchen to find my brother trapped under 200 pounds of werewolf.

"Hey furball, remember me? I fucked your girlfriend!"

In a second he tossed Sam aside and came straight for me. Perfect. I aimed down the barrel at his heart, and fell into that calm, quiet place my mind tends to slip to when I kill. Where everything is hazy, and sort of constant hum of background noise drowns out all surrounding sounds.

Before I could pull the trigger, he jerked the gun from my hands and hurled it across the room.

Shit.

"Dean!"

I dodged another fatal blow as my brother yelled for me.

"Go get Jesse Sam. GO!"

He didn't protest, he just left. The bastard sliced open my right arm, and I vaguely wondered if sending Sammy away would be the death of me. Either way, I was so gonna kill this son of a bitch.

_Either way i must say goodbye.  
You're dead to me_

I could hear the fighting up stairs. Dean was doing well so far, but if I didn't get up there in the next few minutes, he was going to lose. Don't get me wrong, he is a fantastic hunter. But in the end he was only human, and sometimes that's not enough. This was one of those sometimes.

The door slammed open to reveal Sam Winchester. Thank you God! He tried not to look at me, and it took me a moment to figure out why. Nudity, oh yeah! The absence of clothing.

"Hi Sam, mind if I borrow your shirt?"

"Sure thing," he said, unbuttoning the shirt and passing it through the bars while keeping his eyes trained on the anything but me.

The object of his captured vision was an area of the wall, big enough to have covered two full size bulletin boards, covered with pictures. Some of myself, obviously taken without my knowledge over the past year, others of Eric and I from two years ago. It seemed like another lifetime.

I took the shirt, and rather than slipping it on, wrapped it around my hands. With those covered fingers I grasped a bar and pulled. The sound of metal groaning raised Sam's head, but he quickly looked away, wide-eyed. Behold the power of nudity.

_For anyone to break through  
It's gonna be a fight_

I tasted blood in my mouth from the last blow, the familary coppery taste. I hgit him with another right hook before the bastard tossed me into a wall. I felt some small table break beneath me as the world around me rocked and blurred. Blinking furiously, I forced myself to stay conscious. Grabbing one of the legs, broken at a point, I shoved myself to my feet. With a smirk and a laugh, I said, spitting up blood as I attacked him.

"That the best you got? No wonder Jesse left you. You just," blow to the stomach, "weren't", swing at the head, "man enough," stab in the torso, "for her," and I kicked him into the opposite wall.

_Thank You for making me  
feel like I'm guilty  
Making it easy to murder your sweet memory_

I slipped through the gap in the bars, and wanted to scream "I'm free!", but there was no time to celebrate. Eric was down, but far from out.

I discovered when I unwrapped the longsleeved blue and white stripped button-up that it was torn in two.

"Sorry Sam. I'll buy you another one, promise!"

He shook his head, eyes never leaving mine for fear of wandering.

"Don't be, just don't let Dean get killed."

I nodded and flung myself up those stairs in a blur of crimson hair and pale skin. I never tan, only burn. But UV rays were the least of my worries as I flowed through the house, following Dean's scent with fervor.

_Bring it on, bring it on  
All your heartache and frustration_

He got up. Anyone else would be down for the count, hell probably out for at least a few hours. Fucking werewolves, no offense to Jesse.

Still, he stood up, watching the gaping 3inch hole in his chest heal itself as if it I had never stabbed him. He looked at me, and he laughed, which sounded like a fucked up bark coming from his wolf-man form.

Then in a blur of movement, almost as fast as a Wendigo, his neck snapped, and the laughter died.

"See you in hell, Chuckles"

_I'm distant in those hollow eyes_

I had never felt anything so satisfying as feeling that neck crack in my hands, making a wish as it broke. They always said death majick was the oldest. Probably worked better then eyelashes or falling stars.

In a moment Dean hugged my body against his, wrapping me in his dark red overshirt. I hadn't even noticed he took it off. It was like I was in shock, but not. All felt fine, but there was something ominous. Like the calm before the storm.

Ice blue eyes snapped open, and I knew the moon had risen.

My senses were alive, all five intensified a million times. Fresh death, blood, and Dean. My head was cradled to his chest, tanned and smooth and perfect. I could smell his unique blend of spice, but it was like sprinkles. His skin was the frosting on the cake. I could feel his pulse thumping away like some trapped thing. All I had to do was sink my teeth in, and I could spill that pulse free from its fleshy prison.

Oh, fuck.

_You've been done wrong too long  
And I'm strong enough to change it_

She was completely still in my arms, and silent. I opened my mouth to say something, and she was curled up in the corner farthest away from us and the late Eric Riley. My shirt was wrapped around her as if she were cold, on an 80 degree night.

"Jesse," I asked, taking a step forward. Her voice came out an animalistic growl.

"Don't."

"Whats wrong?"

"Sunset," Sam answered for her.

Shit.

I tossed him the keys.

"Meds are in the trunk."

He nodded and left. I turned back to Jesse, when she was suddenly ay my side, crawling on all fours on the floor. It was graceful where it should have been awkward. But damn the sight of her moving towards in only my long sleeve overshirt was a major turn on. Focus Dean!

"Jesse, this is not you, listen to me."

She looked up at me, eyes silver again and full of fear.

"Its too late. The meds…they won't work. Not fast enough."

Just fucking great.

"Is there any other way to stop the change?"

She nodded. Then Sam got back.

_For I have reached my end_

Where Dean smelled of dominance and lust, Sam was only meat. Just food for the beast, for me. I licked one long line across his well-muscled stomach, and he shivered in terror. The fear was like a fine marinade, urging me further on.

"Jesse, fight it!," I could hear Dean demanding distantly, almost lost in the white noise that my surroundings had become. "What can stop the change?"

The elder brother had moved closer, and the smell of him and the scent of desire overpowered that of Sam. The next thing I noticed I was on my knees in front of Dean, staring up at him with ice-blue eyes that seemed lost and predatory at the same time.

"Sex."

(so glad to have finished this chapter on my one week deadline! yay me! now go leave me lotsa love while i power out Ch 12 for Pixc, because I know your probably dying right now!)


	12. Sorry I Tried To Eat You

**Disclaimer: **said it 11 times, and I'll say it again. Any SN elements are Kripke's, any songs belong to their writers, and the rest is MINE! ALL MINE! Songs used were Papa Roach- To Be Loved and 3 Doors Down- Here By Me

A/N this chapter dedicated to feralpixc, for reminding me that one should never be ashamed of going into detail.

**Blue Moon**

Chapter 12: Sorry I Tried To Eat You

_I want domination  
I want your submission  
I see you're not resisting  
To this temptation_

My skin was twitching like a heroin addict, dancing along the surface, as I stared up at Dean. Silently waiting for his answer. Did anyone think to bring the tranq gun?

"Sam, go wait in the car."

He gave us the 'never-ever-tell-me' look and did as Dean ordered. Good. Because, even without the beast, seeing him shirtless was enough to almost rob me of my self-control. And lets be honest, I don't have much of that to begin with.

I didn't need to. Dean's hands went to my wrists pulling me to my feet and drowning me in another one of his fiery kisses. My beast practically sighed with relief. Sexual tension, its not a healthy thing.

My lips were bruised from the ferocity of his own as his mouth moved on to my neck, tasting, and nipping the sensitive spot along my collarbone. It was then I realized my shirt was gone, or rather Dean's. The only thought that crossed my mind at this realization was Dean was wearing too many clothes and _oh dear God where did he learn to do that!?_

His hands had taken to kneading my breast, those talented fingers pulling just enough to rip a cry from my throat. Pain is really just a very high amount of pleasure a selected few can enjoy. At the right times, I'm one of them.

His mouth was on them now, tongue taking the right and flicking along the tanned tip until it rose to attention, painful and aching.

My own hands were tracing the fine muscles of him, from those perfect pectorals down to his carved out abs, until they met their journeys end. The waistband of his jeans, which I wanted to rip from his body. A small part of me whispered something about getting pulled over for indecent exposure due to lack of pants. Then the beast swallowed that voice.

I tugged at the offending material, demanding it to vanish. The action tore a laugh from Dean, deep and hoarse with his passion. With his hands in my own, we removed the blasphemous denim, and fell to floor, Dean riding on top of me.

I could feel him pressed hard and ready into my torso as he kissed his way down to where my pale stomach ended and lower things began.

Determined to give back some of what I was receiving, I shoved him to a sitting position, capturing one of those dark, sensitive peaks in my lips and giving it a sharp nip. He cried out above me, and I smiled as I massaged it with lips and tongue, content with his moans. Foreplay always was my specialty.

However, my time was short enjoyed. The beast rose from the depths like some dark leviathan, demanding we take him, or suffer the consequences. Somewhere along the way my left hand had wrapped itself around his velvet length, giving it a generous squeeze, and tearing another shout from above, still different from the others. It had the potential of being an amusing game some day when my beast wasn't riding me: how many noises could Dean make?

My eyes burned, and their frozen hues looked up into Dean's own, which now blazed a shade of green, dark with desire, as I fought to form a few coherent words.

"Dean…please.."

It was all the encouragement he needed, and in one swift move, he was filling me, stretching me in every direction. He moved above me in a sort of push up position, the muscles of his biceps flexed taught as he thrust inside me, harder and faster then I believed was humanly possible.

Someone was crying out, and was me, chanting his name and mix of other jarbled phrases like some Latin dirge. _Oh God, Dean, fuck, yes, please, Dean! _

It became a carnal worship of bodies, older then time itself. My legs wrapped around his waist, my mouth kiss and nipping everything in its reach. Hands seeking skin, moving, faster, in, out, breathing, can't forget that. My brain only had but one thought:_ More._

Without forewarning our pretense it slammed into me, and I rode every wave of pleasure. I felt Dean's rhythm falter before he followed me into that sweet abyss. Technicolor fireworks exploded in my eyes. I couldn't see, couldn't think, couldn't feel anything except but this moment of bliss. All those sappy books about body's becoming one were suddenly less sappy and more non-fiction. Our hearts beat in perfect sync, breathing erratic.

I never knew how long we lay like that, caked in sweat, neither of us willing to move. When my brain worked again, it felt guilty for the undoubtedly bored as hell Sam waiting in the Impala.

_Sorry I can't always find the words to say  
But everything I've ever known gets swept away  
Inside of your love_

I did not want to move.

Unfortunately, Sam was in car, probably reading some effed up book like To Kill A Mockingbird. Better go save him from crappy literature.

"Dean?" Jesse asked as I finally withdrew from her, lying beside her with my elbow supporting me. I cocked and eyebrow at the question.

"Yeah?"

"I kinda love you."

I couldn't help but smile down at her, kissing her squarely on the lips.

"Good. Cause, I kinda love you too."

She laughed, and the sound of it was something I never I wanted to stop hearing.

"Good to know. Now, where did my, er, your, shirt go?"

_I've got another confession  
I fell to temptation  
And there is no question  
There was some connection  
I've got to follow my heart  
No matter how far  
I've gotta roll the dice  
Never look back and never think twice_

I slid into the backseat, masking a laugh with a cough. It was a laugh, ok, NOT a giggle.

Sam politely dog-eared the page and slid a worn copy of To Kill A Mockingbird under the seat.

Damnit. We were going to have to talk, him and I. My mind not able to form a coherent sentence, still sort of hazy after that amazing bout of sex, I said what I was thinking.

"Hi Sam. Sorry I tried to eat you." And some how managed to say it with a smile and a slightly cheerful tilt to my voice.

He turned in his seat as Dean revved the precious Impala, the purr of the engine making my body vibrate in the seat beneath Dean's massive shirt. It managed to fall down to my knees, so as long as I crossed my legs, I was safe. Lets hear it for yeti-sized boyfriends!

"Its ok," he replied with his usual little nervous grin.

"Sorry I..uh…tried to kill you."

I couldn't help but laugh at his unease as we pulled out of the driveway and onto the gravel road.

"Apology accepted," and we shook on it.

The only sounds in the car was Dean's AC/DC tape, and me singing to it, until Sam spoke up one last time.

"Oh, and Jesse?"

"Yeah Sam?"

"You owe me a shirt."

_And everything I have in this world  
And all that I'll ever be  
It could all fall down around me.  
Just as long as I have you,  
Right here by me_

It was late enough when we got back to the house that I had to carry Jesse inside. Explained why the singing abruptly stopped back there, much to my disappointment too. What can I say, babe's got a damn good voice.

I set her down on the bed and gave her a shot of her medicine, just to be safe. As I threw the needle away she began to stir.

"What the…am I kidnapped again?" she asked, running a hand through her crimson hair, while rubbing her eyes with the other.

"No, your in your bedroom. How are you feeling?"

"Starving. Haven't really eaten all day, what with my options being poisoned meat or start gnawing on myself."

"Did you?"

"No! And given our earlier…activities, I think you would have noticed if I did."

"Good point," I laughed. Only we could joke about self-cannibalism.

At that moment Sam came in, carrying a plate of sandwiches.

"FOOD!" Jesse shouted with joy, leaping off the bed and snatching one off the plate.

Sam cocked an eyebrow at her as I watched.

"I thought you were tired," said the younger Sasquatch.

"I was. But then food and my stomach went all YIPEE and now it's a happy stomach."

We shared a look, an amused 'she's cute but psycho' look.

"Ugg…my head feels all..funny," she muttered before her eyes grew wide.

"What did you GIVE me?"

"Just your night meds," I said, putting my hands up in innocence. "Why?"

She held her forehead in one hand, shaking it slowly, her voice muffled as she spoke.

"I'm not supposed to have Haloperidol without having Ativan first."

"Well…what happens if you don't?" Sam asked, ruffling his hair, his annoying nervous habit.

She opened her mouth to speak, index finger pointed to the ceiling as if to declare something, but all that came out was a giggle.

Jesse never giggled. Ever. It was almost creepy.

It continued for another minute or so until her face sobered, skin shinning with tears of laughter.

"That."

An hour later she finally came down, passed out on the couch sometime in the middle of Dracula 2000.

Sam had left the room, something about a drink. I wasn't exactly listening. But with Jesse curled up asleep next to me, can you really blame me?

Yeah, you can't, admit it. I mean, cmon, just look at her. The way her fiery locks tumble around like some natural curtain, and how her lips part just so. She looked so…peaceful. Content even.

"You're so in love with her."

I looked up at my brother, standing in the doorway with a long-neck in hand. Nodding, I laughed and let out a sigh.

"Yeah, I am."

"Your so screwed dude."

"I know."

"I'm gonna hit the sack. Let me know what your plan is in the morning, or should I say afternoon?"

"Haha, real witty there college boy."

Truth is, he had a damn good point. I didn't have a plan, hell not even a real clear idea. But as I took her up to bed and laid down beside her, I realized it didn't matter. As long as I had her right here by me.

(Can you believe theres only one more chapter? thats right! then I can finally label it as COMPLETE! but have no fear, or possibly have fear, for the sequel will be posted same time as all my updates, week or less later. Now go leave me LOVE for that was my first smex scene I've ever posted. Ever.)


	13. A Poetic Ending

**Disclaimer:** The lucky # 13, still don't own a thing. I think I should. You know, .000001 percent-ish. Song used is Bloodhound Gang- Something Diabolikal.

**Blue Moon**

Chapter 13: A Poetic Ending

_Idle hands are bound for the  
Damned once Sam went down to Georgia  
Speed was forged of the divine salt  
Mined from the vaults of flame by the lost_

Its been a week. Since then a lot has changed.

The first true pack in almost a century has been formed. My house now belongs to Marianne and the peaceful members of Lunar Haven, now known as the Black Hawk Alpine pack. Aside from containing themselves, I have but one rule. You touch my car, and I'll kill you.

The boys are all patched up. The scratches didn't even leave a scar. As far as I know anyway. I know for certain that Dean doesn't have any. Trust me.

Not to worry folks. No one was bitten, so I'm still the lone wolf of the group.

I left David an "anonymous" tip 5 days ago about Eric's location. They never did find the body. Only genuine Timberwolf tracks. He's been listed as dead and the case closed. What a poetic ending. Not enough to fill a chipmunk's gallbladder either.

Sam and I are practically family now. We trust each other enough to get food for the other. Put into account that last week we tired to kill each other, I'd say we've made excellent progress.

_Failed bids breathed taillights from the crypt_

Dean lets me drive. Something about respect for automobiles. Sam till can't. From what I've heard about the semi, I don't blame him. At all.

The boys know I'm rich now. Caught me paying for the rooms one night. They still demand to pay for everything.

As of now we're heading to a gig in Georgia. Something about a poltergeist, should be fun.

I still don't have a plan. Dean swears he does. Yeah, I bet. But it was alright, because I have something. I have them.

And Sam has a new shirt.

(yep. thats it. I'm FINISHED!!! feels accomplished again, don't worry, I'm already working on Ch1 of the sequel! So, go leave me lotsa love while I wring my hands over the SN season finale in...6 hours and 34 minutes!

Summary: a phone call from old friend sends the trio to the place where "so much effed up crap" comes around. The enemy they face will test their strengths, their friendship, and Jesse and Dean's own relationship. )


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